Thick as Thieves
by Summertime-Snow
Summary: AU. Santana and her Partner in Crime Sebastian lead a life of deception. When one 'assignment' goes desperately wrong, they are forced to question everything they have believed in, including each other.
1. Prologue 1

Thick as Thieves

Prologue 1 – The Initiation

Santana Lopez was furious. Her feet were sore from a whole day of walking around in 5 inch heels and she was fairly certain her pounding headache was caused by a lack of oxygen from her figure-hugging bandage dress restricting her breathing. Sure, she looked absolutely drop-dead gorgeous and oozed sex appeal from every pore of her satiny sun-kissed skin, but all she wanted at the moment was to curl up in the huge, luxurious bed in her hotel room and sleep. But no such luck for the stunning Latina today, because she was earning her keep. Well, attempting to, and her partner wasn't being exactly helpful. In fact, she hadn't heard a word from the smug bastard all day. So much for teamwork.

Santana put on her best smile and turned back to the man who had been chatting her up for the past half hour. (Of course, she hadn't been paying any attention to a single word he said.) The sudden intensity of her eye contact accompanied by her sultry smile was enough for the man's train of thought to waver. Not to mention Santana sliding her foot up and down his calf under the table.

" … so anyway, I told my business associate Steven that he could go fu-"

"Sorry, hot stuff, but I'm feeling a little tipsy and I think I need to head back to my room. Thanks again for the lovely evening." Santana leaned forwards and gave the seemingly unsuspecting and rather dazed man a kiss on the cheek. Standing up, she deliberately wobbled and pretended to sway, only to fall right back into his arms.

"Oh dear. I think I might need some help getting to the elevator… would you be a darling and assist me?" She laughed breathily, sliding her arms behind his neck and looking up at him through her long, curly lashes.

"S-sure. I could do that." He managed to choke out.

"What an absolute gentleman you are," Santana gushed. She lowered her voice to a husky whisper and spoke right beside his ear, letting her warm breath caress the sensitive skin "and I love a man who knows how to treat the ladies right."

Santana straightened up and bit back a smirk as she saw the man's dull brown eyes widen, his pupils dilating just the slightest. He fumbled to support both their weights as he jostled the two of them towards the lobby with poorly-concealed haste.

Santana rolled her eyes. These snotty successors. Always think they will get everything they want just because they've grown up leeching of daddy's inexhaustible Trust Fund. The one currently stabbing at the elevator button with unnecessary force while casting eager glances at her was first in line to take over his father's multi-million dollar electrical empire. Well, not if Santana had anything to do with it.

When the elevator doors opened at her floor, the man all but dragged her out into the landing, escorting Santana right to the door of her room. Concealing a deep sigh by ducking her head when rummaging through her purse for the card key, she turned back to her subject with a vibrant smile and threw her arms around him, kissing him full on the mouth. His reaction was less surprised than fervent, confirming Santana's initial judgment call that the self-righteous douchebag had been expecting this to happen all night. Stumbling back into the penthouse suite without breaking contact, she shut and locked the door behind them, pushing him back into the lavish four-poster king bed. Still keeping up the act, Santana straddled his chest and promptly undid his striped tie.

"Won't be a minute sweetheart, now just wait here like a good boy." She murmured seductively as she blindfolded him with the tie, securing it firmly in a knot behind his head. She rolled her eyes once again at the blissful, stupid grin on his face, features scrunched up in anticipation as he obeyed her orders without complaints.

Santana reached for her purse and pulled out a small wooden box containing a syringe filled with a clear, pale green substance. She stabbed the hypodermic needle into the conceited asshole's neck and emptied its contents right into his jugular. He barely even had time to yelp at the sting of the needle before he was knocked out cold on the sheets.

Wrapping the emptied syringe in tissues, Santana placed it carefully back in the box before slipping the box back into the purse. Checking her mobile phone, she noticed the four unread messages.

"About time, you idiot." She muttered to herself, reading through the texts.

She removed the stupid short wig she was wearing and shook out her long, dark hair, letting it fall in cascading waves around her face. Santana peeled of the red Herve Ledger dress and filled her grateful lungs with a deep breath of air. She changed into a pair of black cargo pants and a fitted black V-neck, trading her stilettos for a pair of sturdy boots. She stuffed the dress and heels into a duffel bag and hid it in the back of the closet.

The first part of her job complete, Santana walked out onto the balcony, slinging her black backpack over her shoulders. Clamping a hook around the railing and checking that the climbing rope was securely fastened, Santana nervously lowered herself into the balcony three floors below hers. It was nerve-wrecking, since it was a twenty seven storey plunge to inevitable death if she had failed to secure the hook properly.

* * *

><p>Santana never told anyone because she hated showing weakness, but she was terrified of heights. Well, not of heights, per se, but of falling. So many times she and her partner had carried out this same routine to great success, but this was the part of the procedure she detested - having to put her life at risk by dangling precariously off a ledge. She had never got over the phobia, and she seriously doubted she ever would. But she had no choice. There was no way she could enter a room with her subject, often in a fit of passion, and exit several minutes later looking completely flawless and unfazzled. People would be suspicious.<p>

So she had to exit from a different room, looking like a different person to the cameras, to prevent arousing suspicion. The part about teasing death was her partner's idea. He was right, of course, but it is easy for him to say when he wasn't the one in danger of plummeting to his death. However, Santana grudgingly agreed that it was the only way, and she was still alive after scaling numerous buildings.

* * *

><p>She heaved a huge sigh of relief when her boots were firmly planted on the concrete floor of the verandah. Unhooking herself from the harness, she went through the sliding doors into the smaller, much less impressive state room. Santana extracted the garments from the backpack and laid them on the dingy double bed. Having some time to spare, she padded around the room barefooted, getting herself a glass of water and munching on a granola bar. She hadn't realized she was starving.<p>

Too soon, she had to get ready - slipping into the floor-length chiffon gown, putting on the strappy heels and touching up her makeup. Before heading out, Santana gave herself a once-over in the floor length mirror by the door. She looked almost innocent in the floaty, pastel dress, but the drape of the material clung to her body all the right places and flaunted her curves. She gathered what she needed and headed out, ready to meet with her partner and execute Phase Two of their Standard Operating Procedure.


	2. Prologue 2

Thick as Thieves

Prologue 2 – The Partner

"Oh yes, on weekends I enjoy hiking with my dog Parker. She's a real sweetheart. Once, when we were out by the lake, we encountered some ducklings trying to waddle towards the water, and Parker guided them in and acted as their bodyguard! It was the sweetest thing ever..."

"I'm also really into music, I do enjoy just staying home on a lazy Sunday and tickling the ivories. It's very relaxing and rejuvenating. I get lost in the music sometimes..."

"I'm an excellent chef, if I do say so myself. My specialty dish is probably my panacotta. It just melts in your mouth and the raspberry sauce adds a aromatic tanginess that is absolutely delectable…"

"Sometimes Parker and I head to the children's hospital to spend a day with the kids. They adore her and I bring my guitar or ukulele along and we play some fun tunes. It's just for the kids to have a good day. That's all that matters. It's so important to give support to those not as fortunate as us. I lost my grandmother to cancer and I can only imagine how hard it must be for the kids and their families..."

Sebastian really enjoyed concocting all these anecdotes to entertain the ladies with. They were mostly all a load of bullshit, really. It was fun watching their walls come crashing down with each whimsical tale he made up. Of course, some willingly threw themselves at him the moment he opened his mouth to offer a polite greeting; but all the same, it was fun watching them slowly come undone until they were practically begging Sebastian to take them.

To say Sebastian was attractive was a colossal understatement. He was tall and athletic, with the toned, graceful body of a dancer. His piercing sea green eyes had a mischievous and captivating sparkle, that when paired with his mega-watt smile and dimples were quite a force to be reckoned with.

Not only was he blessed with amazing genetics, he also possessed a remarkable gift of irresistible charm and charisma. Sebastian exuded confidence and with that, an extremely infectious sense of self-adoration. He was smooth-talking and always knew what to say. His boyish good looks and undeniable allure, coupled with his sharp wit and scheming tactics were what made him so good at what he did. His ability to imperceptibly obtain information from his subjects without them suspecting anything was another acquired skill.

Needless to say, it was understandable why he and Santana had decided to become partners in crime. Especially given the circumstances under which they had first met.

* * *

><p><em>Sebastian Smythe had been making a living scamming off young trophy wives as well as elder wealthy housewives who were undergoing a mid-life crises. It was pretty obvious which of the two he preferred to prey on, though both made him enough to get by. So when Sebastian heard about an old property tycoon's sweet, innocent new child bride, he couldn't have been more pleased.<em>

_His modus operandi was simple enough. _

_Step one: Charm the panties off his target. Literally. He never used his real name and avoided last names as much as possible. He never gave a true back-story, always a made-up one that would melt the ladies' hearts. Basically, he was unforgettable in the present, yet untraceable in the future. And Sebastian was yet to fail in this practice._

_Step two: Have some fun. This is the part in which Sebastian tended to have a preference towards the young brides, though he had to admit that some of the elder ladies really were much, much more experienced in ways even he could not comfortably discuss._

_Step three: Extract information. After step one and two, it was always easy as a piece of cake for Sebastian to obtain any information he wanted from the ladies. Social security numbers, credit card details, and any deep, dark secrets he might possibly find a use for. _

_Step four: Run. Sebastian's real targets were the loaded husbands (and one time, wife) of his female subjects. He mostly leeched off their bank accounts in quantities insignificant enough to avoid detection (with his carefully-selected targets, this "insignificant" amount ranged anywhere from a few hundred to thousands of dollars a time) just to keep police out of the mix, but in a rare few occasions, he was forced to resort to blackmail._

_The best part was that his subjects never told on him, for a multitude of reasons: _

_They couldn't simply tell their husbands (or wife) about having given the information to a sex god after he had fucked them into oblivion, or their infidelity would be exposed. _

_They couldn't even remember telling Sebastian anything in their pleasure-induced haze. _

_They didn't care about their husbands (or wife) in the slightest - they only married for the money and lifestyle anyway and there was plenty of cash to go around even with Sebastian leeching off the stash. _

_They clung on desperately to that sliver of hope that one day, the dashing brunette of their fantasies would return for them as a rich man and they would elope and live happily ever after._

_Sebastian read about the wedding in the local paper. The 60 year-old Property mogul was taking his fourth wife- a stunning swimsuit model of a Latina, based on the photo attached to the article – the coming weekend in The Hilton Hotel on 6th Avenue._

_Sebastian had scoffed and rolled his eyes as his eyes skimmed the full-colour, front-page article and the many photos that spread over the next four pages. It was the typical rich-man's wedding - Truckloads of gaudy pink and white gossamer and over-the-top garlands of clichéd white roses adorning elaborate marble archways. The whole get-up flaunted wealth. Such four of the hotel's five grand ballrooms being reserved for the celebrations that would last five days. But it was so… impersonal. And all this was coming from Sebastian, who lived off one night stands when he wasn't "working"._

_Anyway, what Sebastian found himself paying special attention to was the main photograph of the couple. More specifically, the girl. She looked no older than twenty, though the article stated she was twenty five. What caught his attention though, was her smile. To anyone else, it looked entirely convincing that Anita Espinosa was delighted and completely in love; that she didn't care about the controversies abound regarding the age gap, that true love was true love. But Sebastian knew better. He was an actor himself. This girl made a living the same way he did._

_That was why on the Friday morning of that week, Sebastian slid one of his many fake ID's into his pocket, loaded his bags into his silver BMW M6 convertible and began the 7 hour drive from the lake house to 6th Avenue. _

_Because it takes a thief to know a thief._

* * *

><p>Sebastian was currently recounting a charming, and utterly false, story of his adventures in Rome to the six young socialites surrounding him. All six ladies were fluttering their fake lashes, sticking out their chests, flipping their hair, all vying for his attention.<p>

And Sebastian loved it.

As he sat at the bar, a pair of identical twins had managed to snake their way closest to him, one on either side. So close, that Sebastian had wrapped a strong arm around each of their waists. The other women were looking far from pleased at this and kept shooting the blondes dirty glares. The dolled-up pair, however, was thoroughly enjoying themselves and was being anything but subtle with their advances. Trailing their perfectly-manicured nails along his thighs; whispering promises of a threesome into his ear as they licked and sucked on his earlobes.

Sebastian was used to all this of course, but he was a guy and he would be lying if he said that he was not feeling turned on. The prospective scene his vivid imagination that was currently building in his mind of some girl-on-girl action while he watched was making his slacks feel just the slightest bit tighter. Giving the twins appreciative glances through the corners of his eyes; he ordered a round of shots for the three of them.

Before too long, however, he had completely lost interest. These bleached-blondes were far too pushy and forward. He had been with enough of their type to know what sex with girls like them were like - though incredibly wild and inhibition-free, he didn't appreciate the silicon implants and fake tans, the sickening intoxication of far too much tacky perfume. Also, they were far too easy to land – Sebastian always felt to most satisfying part was the chase. Sure, the sex was great, but the challenge leading up to it was his game.

"Why hello, honey." Came a smooth, rich purr from behind him.

Sebastian's forced, trademark smirk turned into one of genuine pleasure as he turned around to face his partner.

Santana looked stunning as always, the same Latina goddess he had first met three years ago. If anything, she looked even better, having filled out a bit more since and acquired a positively alluring sense of self-confidence. She was gorgeous, intelligent and independent; and if he was perfectly honest, everything Sebastian looked for in a girl.

And damn, did she look good in that dress.

As she sashayed over to him, Sebastian extended an arm and snaked it around her slender waist, barely noting the dirty glances the twins threw towards Santana as he did so.

"Hello, my love. Don't you look ravishing this evening." He commented, giving her a quick peck on the lips before twirling her around, the soft, light fabric of her skirt billowing around her as she threw her head back and laughed.

"Oh I have to look decent for my _fiancé_." She emphasized, touching their noses together and watching the blondes toss their hair and huff in annoyance as they left from the corner of her eyes.

The moment they were gone, Santana chuckled and made to pull away from Sebastian, but he held her close, his fingers interlocked at the small of her back.

"Okay hold up. They're gone now. We can cut the act." She said seriously, her dark eyes showing increasing signs of annoyance at his refusal to erase the stupid smirk off his face. "Let me go." She demanded.

At this, he only pulled her closer, resting his head in the crook of her neck.

"I meant it when I said you looked incredible tonight." He murmured. "Absolutely spectacular. Pity the fiancé bit wasn't real."

He laughed softly, his warm breath ghosting over the shell of her ear. Santana couldn't help but shudder at the touch of his fingers on the exposed skin along her waist.

"We've got time" he reassured her. "We're forty minutes ahead of schedule. Relax"

Closing her eyes, Santana placed both hands against Sebastian's chest and rested her head on his shoulder. She was exhausted from the night's activities, and she hadn't been sleeping well for the past week. They swayed together slowly to the music provided by the live band on the temporary stage.

* * *

><p>Their relationship was complicated, to say the least. They both acknowledged the ever-present sexual tension between themselves, and on the rare occasion had indeed given in to their shared desires. But while they could not be a couple – both of them just were not the kind to settle down with one person –they cared deeply for each other. Not quite in a friends-with-benefits sense, but one of camaraderie. They were allies. They both knew the hard life and were never going back. They needed each other to make things work.<p>

The sex just happened because they were two promiscuous, incredibly good-looking human beings. It was basically inevitable. Things were never awkward the day after though, as they both had a strong mutual understanding to never let anything get in the way of their comradeship. They just went on as if nothing had happened.

* * *

><p>"Okay ladies and gentlemen, I have received a request from Ashley and Christie Sexton, the birthday girls, to have a Mr. Martin Solomon come up and perform a number." The booming voice of the band's lead singer announced.<p>

Sebastian stiffened up at the sound of his alias for the evening. Without raising her head, Santana muttered "That's you, isn't it", more of as a statement than a question.

"Seems those girls you chased off want their revenge" he replied, pulling away from Santana and plastering his most charming smile on his face. "So be it."

Kissing the back of Santana's hand, he ran up on stage with an air of mock modesty, waving off the applauding audience. He gave small nods towards the twin blondes, who were sitting in ridiculous, plush hot pink thrones at the side of the stage. They both wore identical faces of smugness at having separated the dreamy guy from his slut of a fiancée. Sebastian approached the band, speaking with them briefly about the arrangement of his song of choice.

When everything was settled, Sebastian took centre stage, unbuttoning his suit jacket and loosening his tie. The increasing audience waited patiently, curious and excited for the performance to begin. He cradled the microphone in his hand in an unnecessarily seductive way and began:

"Good evening everyone. Firstly, I'd like to wish Ashley and Christie a very happy birthday. We just met tonight but I am glad to be given the honour of performing a song at heir Birthday Bash. May this year be another one full of parties and the glamorous life." The girls fluttered their fake eyelashes and made flirtatious hand gestures, which were in vain since Sebastian never took from the politely cheering audience.

"Secondly, I apologise to you lovely folks in advance – It's been a while since I've sang outside of the shower so…" He let his voice trail as a low rumble of laughter from the audience.

He briefly scanned through the crowd, locating his partner and locking eyes with her. Green met chocolate as he purred into the mic, his voice amplified and resonating around the party scene.

"And finally, I'd like to dedicate this performance to my beautiful fiancée, Ms. Maria Sanchez. I love you, babe." The party guests followed his eyes and cat-called at the blushing Santana. She was a good actress, but she could not deny that a small percentage of the red that stained her cheeks was real. However, she shared a grin with Sebastian at the offended, how-dare-you-do-this-it's-our-party faces of Ashley and Christie.

As opening notes of the snazzy jazz number began, Sebastian turned so his back faced the audience and struck a pose with the mike. The guest nodded excitedly in approval as they recognized the popular song.

_When marimba rhythms start to play  
>Dance with me, make me sway<br>Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore  
>Hold me close, sway me more<em>

_Like a flower bending in the breeze  
>Bend with me, sway with ease<br>When we dance you have a way with me  
>Stay with me, sway with me<em>

_Other dancers may be on the floor  
>Dear, but my eyes will see only you<br>Only you have that magic technique  
>When we sway I go weak<em>

Santana smiled fondly as Sebastian pulled out his slickest dance moves on the stage. Everyone was enjoying the performance but the girls who had requested it, who were currently sitting with their arms crossed in front of their chests, pouting and sulking that their genius plan to get "Mr. Solomon" away from his fiancée had failed.

Though Santana was currently on an assignment, she allowed herself these rare few minutes to really enjoy herself. To be perfectly honest, she loved watching her partner perform. When Sebastian was on stage, he was truly in his element. His charisma worked up the crowd into a frenzy and his undeniable talent was a sight for appreciative eyes.

_I can hear the sounds of violins  
>Long before it begins<br>Make me thrill as only you know how  
>Sway me smooth, sway me now<br>_

_Other dancers may be on the floor  
>Dear, but my eyes will see only you<br>Only you have that magic technique  
>When we sway I go weak<em>

_I can hear the sounds of violins  
>Long before it begins<br>Make me thrill as only you know how  
>Sway me smooth, sway me now<em>

As the song went into its crescendo towards the end, Sebastian did triple spin, dropping to his knees and sliding downstage, slowing to a graceful stop and resumed the final verses of the song.

_When marimba rhythms start to play  
>Dance with me, make me sway<br>Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore  
>Hold me close, sway me more<em>

_Like a flower bending in the breeze_  
><em>Bend with me, sway with ease<em>  
><em>When we dance you have a way with me<em>  
><em>Stay with me, sway with me<em>

_When marimba start to play_  
><em>Hold me close, make me sway<em>  
><em>When we dance you have a way with me<em>  
><em>Stay with me, sway with me<em>

Slipping easily into a velvety falsetto, he took on a dramatic pose as the pianist hit the final note and the spotlight went out.

The audience went wild, clapping and cheering and screaming for an encore. Santana cheered along and graciously thanked the other guests who walked up to her to congratulate her on her 'fiancé'.

After a lot of fussing from the audience, and a hissy fit from the birthday twins, Sebastian agreed to perform one more song. But only on one condition – it was to be a duet. Upon hearing this, the delighted crowd immediately started ushering Santana towards to the stage, despite her loud protests.

Before she knew it, a microphone was thrust into her hands and the opening notes of a new song were blasting from the band.

She laughed at the song choice, but joined in nonetheless. It was the most fun she'd had in a long time, dancing with Sebastian and singing her heart out. The spectators roared with amusement as the 'engaged couple' put on an act of being in a fierce showdown, getting right up into each other's faces with plenty of diva snaps and attitude.

If only they knew just how true the lyrics leaving the dynamic duo's mouths were.

_You've been hit by_

_You've been struck by_

_A smooth criminal._


	3. Chapter 1

Author's note:

Hey everyone! Thank you so, so much for entertaining my little plot bunny's attempt to venture out of the burrow. And to those of you who reviewed... I really can't thank you enough. I honestly wasn't expecting any reviews and they were such pleasant surprises. It means so much and those comments were what kept me writing.

So anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! (:

* * *

><p><strong>Thick as Thieves<strong>

**Chapter 1 – The Plan**

Sebastian lifted Santana off the stage after they had shared a five-second lip lock at the crowd's incessant chants of "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" They accepted the free drinks they had been presented for their impromptu performances and waltzed off to a deserted corner of the bar.

"Well, how was that, 'Ms Sanchez'?" Sebastian said mockingly, swirling the ice in his scotch around and making little clinking noises. "I thought the song choice was a nice touch."

"Oh shut your trap." Santana rebutted with a similar tone, a smile tugging at her full lips. "How much longer do we have anyway?"

"According to my watch… three minutes and twelve seconds."

"Great."

"So I take it phase one went smoothly enough?"

"Would I be here if it didn't?"

"Touché."

"Let's just say you'd better be at the top of your game tonight, Smythe. I have a feeling this is gonna be a tricky one."

"Have I ever not been? Besides, I'm sure it's just going to be like any other assignment we've done-"

Sebastian was cut of mid-sentence by a shout, followed by the sound of a small explosion. He raised an eyebrow at Santana, reflecting the pleased and somewhat relieved expression on her face.

The familiar sounds of mayhem reached their ears– cries, shrieks and yells… crashing, cluttering, thudding…

That was their cue.

They gulped back their drinks, grabbed each other's hands and ran towards the club house. When Santana almost fell over, she paused to pull off her heels while using Sebastian's sturdy arm for balance. Before too long they were back to running across the grass, inconspicuously sneaking behind the swarm of panicked party guests preoccupied by the blast.

With the ongoing pandemonium, no one noticed the pair slip into the single-storey building.

"And that" Sebastian gasped out between breaths "Is what you call a diversion."

Santana and Sebastian were doubled over in the luxuriously-furnished room, trying to catch their breaths. It was a huge lawn they had just sprinted across and their lungs were desperate for oxygen.

"Damn straight." Santana chokes out between breaths. Slowly, they both recovered. "It was my idea to set the tiny charge under the buffet table. All we needed was couple of overturned trays of hors d'oevres and whatever shmancy shit. If I had left the task to you, you would have used a whole crate of gunpowder in the kitchen and the whole place would be on fire right now-"

"But admit it – that would have been far more awesome though!" Sebastian interrupted. It'd have been so awesome."

"…And not to mention create a long list of casualties." Santana finished. "Seb. We lie, we steal, we cheat. But we don't kill. You know that's not who we are."

At her words, his smile faltered. He found himself unable to meet her eyes, looking away from her intense, yet surprisingly gentle gaze.

In their line of work, they were both honestly surprised that neither had sunk quite that low yet. But then again, both Sebastian and Santana had a very strong grasp that what they did was simply an occupation, a way to get by. No one needed to get excessively hurt by their job.

In all their multiple exploits, the worst physical harm the partners had ever caused their victims was a head injury that required hospitalization on one of their earlier missions as a team. They were just getting used to each other's antics.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Roughly 4 years earlier<em>**

Santana inspected her 'outfit' in the bathroom mirror. "Some outfit" she thought bitterly. "More like scrap pieces of lace held together by thread. Bloody pervert who invented skimpy lingerie."

Her task for the evening was to be caught doing the dirty with their target (a big-screen movie star who shall remain nameless) by her 'husband', portrayed by none other than her new ally Sebastian Smythe. He would threaten to sue or leak the news to the media, effectively destroying said target's marriage and flawless, squeaky-clean image. Hence, said target would pay the young couple a significant amount of money to keep what happened quiet. They would then run off, leaving no loose ends or traces of ever having been in Los Angeles to begin with.

It was her and Sebastian's fourth assignment together.

_At the tender age of nineteen, Santana had already been involved more scandals than the average middle-aged con artists. She was good at what she did. She had dropped out of law school after her freshman year to focus on her 'job', but had she stayed on, she would have topped her class. Intelligence and quick-wit were a part of her, not to mention the snarkiness and fierce determination to win. _But oh the irony: while she had studied upholding the law, she now used the information to work all ways around it._  
><em>

_However, when she was to be married to yet another old property tycoon, she found herself questioning how long she would be able to pull this same game alone until she was caught. People were getting more careful and less gullible and Santana was worried that her cover would soon be blown. How many fake identities can one have?  
><em>

_So when a dashing young stranger showed up at her wedding reception to tell her he saw right through her lie, she was all ears for his proposition of camaraderie. Was she losing her magic touch? Even though she did not trust him the slightest, his offer of comradeship was one she could not refuse. The guy had everything planned out! So she agreed to meet him for a proper discussion before making her decision._

_On the last day of the five day-long wedding celebration, the young bride was nowhere to be found. She vanished without a trace and none of the attendees ever heard from or saw her again. They never saw the 20 carat white gold and diamond wedding ring or the 18 carat sapphire and silver engagement ring either._

_As their alliance progressed and blossomed, Santana had to admit that having an experienced partner in crime definitely had its perks. Together, they were able to pull off more risky tasks. Instead of their small, private individual scams, they could venture deeper into the underworld of crime, widen their list of contacts and expand their target range into corporate and industrial scales._

_Not to mention: man, was she glad she got to spend her wedding night with her new gorgeous sex god of an ally instead of a sweaty old man._

Unable to stall any longer, Santana applied a fresh coat of dark red lipstick, rearranged her features into a sultry pout and exited the ensuite bathroom. She struck a seductive pose, leaning against the doorframe and took in the actor lying on the queen bed.

The hotel room was illuminated dimly by the orangey glow of a bedside lamp. The man was lying on his side with his head propped up by his elbow, wearing nothing but a pair of dark boxer briefs as he spread out on top of thecheap sheets. Santana wasn't gonna lie, she was lucky this time. The man was undeniably handsome and in very good shape for a middle-aged man. He was a Hollywood actor, for crying out loud. Might as well have some fun while she was at it.

She strutted over to the bed and ran her fingers through his dark blonde curls. He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning into her touch. In one swift moment, he grabbed her around the waist and flipped her onto her back on the bed, hovering lightly above her and attaching his lips firmly to hers. Santana kissed him back passionately, tracing her tongue along his lower lip before pulling it into her mouth and sucking gently. He shuddered at the sensation and pinned her wrists above her head with one hand while the other explored her body.

He grazed his fingers along her collar bones and down her sternum, breaking from the kiss momentarily to glance appreciatively at her breasts in the sheer black and red lace bra. He ran his warm hand along her flat, toned stomach while licking a wide strip on her throat. Santana bit back a moan when his mouth followed the path his hand had previously travelled, squirming lightly against his hold on her wrists.

As turned on as she was, Santana immensely disliked her lack of control over the situation and promptly turned the tables so she was straddling the man's chest. With a coy smile, she began trailing open mouth kisses down his toned torso. Looking up to meet his lust-blown eyes, she carefully used her teeth to grip the waistband of his boxers and with a teasing smirk started dragging them down painfully slowly.

That was when the hotel door flew open, hitting the wall with a loud bang and flooding the dim room with light from the hallway.

"What the fuck?" Sebastian yelled with a perfected tone of mock surprise and anger.

Startled, the actor literally jumped out of bed. However, he got tangled with the sheets and Santana's long limbs, tripping over and hitting his head on the edge of the bedside table.

It would have been a funny sight, but the actor was knocked out cold and the deep gash above his left eyebrow was bleeding profusely. It definitely needed stitches.

Santana and Sebastian were in a state of panic of their own. What were they going to do?

Finally, Santana called for an ambulance from the hotel phone, claiming she was a maid who discovered him bleeding on the floor. The pair then fled the scene and no one knew they were ever at the scene.

They read in the tabloids a few days later that the actor had hurt himself by falling and hitting his head on a rock while hiking with his teenage son. His publicity team must have put two and two together and realized there was no justifiable reason for him to be practically naked in a hotel room and covered with lipstick marks on a night that his wife was away watching his daughter's dance recital. So to keep his devoted-family-man slate clean they probably bribed his son to fabricate the story of the hiking trip.

But the night the accident happened was when both Santana and Sebastian silently decided that they would never want to be directly responsible for the death of someone. They were thieves and conmen, but never killers.

* * *

><p>Now comfortably seated around the mahogany table, sipping cups of strong coffee, Santana and Sebastian began discussing remaining logistics, paying special attention to the slightest details.<p>

The guy Santana had removed from the picture in Phase one was Scott Henley, the son of Russell Henley and the heir of the Venus Energy empire. Russell had sent Scott on a task of introducing himself and the company to potential merger partners, including Graham Sexton, the CEO of Mercury Energy. He had specifically told his son that while he was to maintain a good relationship with Graham, a merger between the two companies would be a disaster of huge proportions and was never to happen under any circumstance.

Russell decided that handling this business merger was a good preparatory opportunity for his son to practice running a huge empire. Plus, it was Sexton's Twin daughters' birthday and the party scene was where Scott liked to be.

Of course, being half-dressed and blindfolded in a temporary drug-induced coma in the penthouse suite wasn't part of the plan

So basically, now that Scott was out of the way with no chance of interfering, Sebastian was going to introduce himself as Scott Henley to Graham Sexton. He was going to ensure that the merger between Venus and Mercury is made successfully.

The merger would cause the downfall of both Venus and Mercury and instead benefit their biggest competitor, Nectar Utility. This would impact the national stock market hugely and having anticipated the changes, Santana and Sebastian's personal bank accounts would burgeon.

The real Scott would most likely have no recollection of the night's events when he comes to and tell his father that his wishes went exactly as planned to avoid a long, angry lecture. He would have a lot of explaining to do to his dad for not dissuading the merger when the time came, but by then it would be too late and Santana and Sebastian would be far away, the value in their bank accounts significantly greater.

Downing the final gulps of their coffee, Santana and Sebastian rose from the table and went to get dressed and ready for Phase two of their operation.

* * *

><p>Graham Sexton was currently consoling his hysterical, overly-dramatic twin princesses. Oh how their special day was ruined, but Daddy would make up for it by throwing a second party the following week. They were such spoiled brats but had Daddy wrapped right around their perfectly-manicured fingers. They were insisting that Daddy invite a certain Mr. Martin Solomon to the compensation party, only this time without his plain fiancée. Graham agreed as he mentally tried to figure out who the hell this joker was.<p>

Done convincing Ashley and Christie that the small commotion at the buffet table was not a national disaster and simply a build up of some hot gas combusting (or so he had been told by a nearby waiter), Graham checked his watch and began heading back towards the main house to await the arrival of a possible business partner's young son; the successor. The last time he had seen Scott Henley, the boy had been just a wee kid waddling around the house on chubby his little toddler legs. His girls were three years younger than Scott.

"I wonder if they'd get along, if they ever met." Graham mused to himself.

* * *

><p>"So, how do I look?" Sebastian chimed, turning away from the mirror to face Santana.<p>

She looked him over from head to toe with a speculative look on her face, taking in the tailored Ralph Lauren suit and polished Prada dress shoes, the carefully-styled hair and clean-shaven face.

Sex on a fucking stick.

"Horrible, as always." She drawled.

At her comment, Sebastian chuckled lightly and Santana felt a small flutter in her stomach at the sound.

They had become so accustomed to each other. Their scents were familiar. Their voices were the most soothing sound to the other's ears. Their bodies were each other's home. After all they'd been through over the years, this was only natural, right? Santana shook away her thoughts.

"For a person who makes her living on deception, you are can be a horrible liar sometimes." Sebastian said. "Now being one of those times. I look pretty damn suave, if I do say so myself. Like James Bond suave."

He turned back to the mirror and winked at his reflection, clucking his tongue and sliding his hands into his pockets with an air of superiority.

"And you're a self-righteous ass." Santana retorted, though the sound came out less blunt than she liked as she fought back a smile. "But yes, you look decent, 'Mr. Henley'." She added, gesturing parenthesis with her fingers as she rolled her eyes. "Third alias in one night - must be a new record."

"Fourth, actually." He corrected. Then continued: "Gas station. Wasn't necessary, but I thought 'What the heck'." To answer her raised eyebrow.

"Ah. I see." She nodded. "Well, you best be gone. Don't want to be late and set a bad impression, now do we?"

Santana turned away and went to check her laptop. She gingerly picked up a small bugging device from the bedside table and attached it to a brass tie clip. Holding it lightly in her palm, she strode over and stood in front of Sebastian, fixing the slender pin in place then buttoning up the suit jacket.

Her hands lingered on his chest as she smoothed down the lapels of the slim-cut blazer, feeling his heartbeat through the heavy fabric. Warm, gentle hands wrapped around hers, holding them in place.

They stayed in that position for a while, Santana avoiding the gaze she felt burning deep past her skin and right into her very being. She was so confused, and hated feeling this way. She wondered what Sebastian was thinking in that very moment, whether his stomach was fluttering pleasantly with butterflies like hers currently was. She promptly stopped her train of thought. They were friends, nothing more.

Only they weren't.

'Friend' was too mild a term for what he was to her. She felt a little guilty for even thinking that. A friend was someone easily cast aside, someone to be forgotten in years to come regardless of how many promises made and broken. What Sebastian and Santana had was different. They were two halves of a whole. What they shared deserved a worthier term, but both of them knew all too well that neither was a fan of labels. Why ruin something with easily-misinterpreted terminology?

Neither wished to move from their embrace, but the beeping emanating from Santana's laptop indicated it was five minutes to their scheduled meeting time with Graham Sexton. Sebastian sighed. Santana raised her eyes, meeting the beautiful sea green that represented so much to her. It was freedom, it was security, it was her _joie de vivre_. That particular shade of deep green, with flecks of yellow and gold surrounded by a rim of stormy grey, symbolized vitality and the essence of life itself.

They moved in at the same time, their lips quickly meeting in a passionate, yet surprisingly tender kiss.

Unlike all the other kisses they had shared both on and off assignments, this one was real. It was the first one that stirred something deep within them both, something beyond the usual lust and desire.

And it scared the shit out of them.

Santana was the first to break the kiss as she stopped for air, which filled her lungs as a gasp when his lips latched on to her throat instead. Somehow, Santana managed conjure up the will to push him away even as that gloriously talented tongue of his licked at the sensitive spot behind her jaw.

"Sebastian. Not now."

For a brief second it looked as if he would protest, but resignation crossed his features and he stepped away, only to lean forward again to peck her once more on the cheek.

"Wish me luck" he whispered. "I'm probably not going to need it but it's nice all the same."

Santana smiled. "Good luck."

Sebastian gathered his wallet and left the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Santana sunk onto the bed and cradled her head in her hands, running her fingers through her hair.

What the hell were her feelings doing?

* * *

><p>Author's note:<p>

So... there. It turned out a little heavier than I expected, especially that little interaction scene at the end. It kinda just wrote itself, I guess. I'm hoping that the explanation of the plan cleared some doubts up about what Santana and Sebastian were up to in the prologues...

And sorry for the super late update! I'm overseas right now and trying to spend as much time with the family as possible during this short trip, so my anti-social tendencies have been exceptionally undesirable at the moment and I haven't been able to really sit down and write. I do try my best to upload as frequently as I can.

Thank you for reading!

_Next up: The Vacation_


	4. Chapter 2

_Author's note: I thought I might give Sebastian's POV a chance to shine for a bit…_

* * *

><p><strong>Thick as Thieves<strong>

Chapter 2 – The Vacation

Sebastian shut the bedroom door behind him, crossing the landing and exited the front door without any hesitation. Once he was out in the crisp night air, however, he stopped walking and inhaled deeply, trying to clear his shaken mind. Exhaling with a shaky breath, he ran a hand down his face and leant his head back, his adam's apple bobbing visibly beneath the thin layer of skin as he swallowed.

Santana was everything to him. Literally. Before her, he knew his life would be heading nowhere pleasant. It would only be a matter of time before he was caught. Sure, when he first met her he saw her as nothing more than a meal ticket, his way of earning his keep without fear of detection. But now… here he was. He, Sebastian Smythe, was thinking about a girl in a way other than robbing her and/or getting in her pants. His father would be ashamed.

Sebastian groaned. The very thought of his father caused a quick, hard fall from the cloud he was on. His past was yet another thing Santana had saved him from.

* * *

><p><em>Mitchell Smythe was a successful lawyer and a notorious ladies' man. Having a kid was the last thing on his agenda. So when Shayla Matthews found out she was pregnant, she jumped state and Martin never heard from her again. Not that he usually did from any of his hook ups anyway.<em>

_When Shayla died in a car crash eleven years later, the Court had no choice but to track down the father of her young son. Shayla had been an orphan with no family whatsoever, and if no one to claimed custody of the boy, he would be classified under the state's care – in either an orphanage or foster care system._

_At the tender age of ten, Sebastian Matthews met his biological father for the first time._

_It was an ugly interaction – Mitch denied any claims of ever having a child but even if the startling resemblance was not enough, DNA never lies. Sebastian was without a doubt his._

_Mitch had wanted nothing to do with Sebastian. He was at the peak of his career and living his chosen life of a bachelor. But the spotlight of the media was shining on them and he had no choice or his reputation would be compromised. Hence, many fake smiles and false embraces in front of cameras later, Sebastian Matthews became Sebastian Mitchell Smythe._

_Mitchell's features were present in his son in the straight line of his nose, the deep-set eyes and prominent brows. For his age, Sebastian was tall and lanky and carried himself with the standing of a man rather than a boy. (This was acquired rather than inherited, however; having never lived a life of luxury as Shayla got them both by on a single meager paycheck working at a supermarket while juggling random odd jobs, he had been forced to mature much faster than any kid his age should have to). Sebastian was basically Martin in miniature._

_The likeness was only emphasized as Sebastian grew. As he entered his teens, puberty did him nothing but favours. Whatever little baby fat melted away, revealing high cheekbones and defined musculature. His shoulders broadened, his jaw line became more prominent and his voice transitioned smoothly into an alluring, unintentionally seductive purr._

_It was a good thing that his genes were kind to him, for the same could not be said about the person he acquired them from. Mitchell was harsh to Sebastian. When he first came into his life, Mitch never spoke to Sebastian unless it was to hurl insults about him and his whore of a mother._

_When they were in front of cameras to promote Mitchell's many publicity campaigns, however, was a whole other story. Mitch would be the epitome of the perfect father, acting traumatized that the woman he had fallen in love with had run off without a trace and kept the wonderful gift of a son from him. To the media, Sebastian was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and the very thought that he had missed out on ten crucial years of his life was absolutely mortifying. Young, terrified and helpless, Sebastian had always played along, entertaining his father's demands and dutifully delivering the lines at press conferences that Mitch had hired people to write._

_Sebastian was determined to prove himself. He achieved straight A's all through middle school and was accepted into a prestigious Honor's scholarship program in a high school. Naturally athletic, he took up soccer, swimming and lacrosse and was offered a place in the state swim team. Sebastian never told anyone his true passion of the performing arts, but in his free time learnt to play the guitar and dance._

_It didn't take long for Sebastian to draw plenty of attention to himself in school. Teachers adored him, boys wanted to be him and girls readily threw themselves at his feet. As the first student in school history to become Captain of the swim team in his freshman year, he was readily accepted by the jocks and his 'friends' set the tone of the rest of his high school life. He did, however, break the jock stereotype by never being mean and secretly hated what the other popular kids did to the rest of the school. He tried to stop the bullying as best he could, but it wasn't easy and eventually he just learnt to turn a blind eye and not get involved whatsoever._

_In fact, he eventually found his only true friend in his geeky lab partner. The two could not have been more different, but they hit off right away. The curly-haired boy was in the school's decathlon team, played the violin and piano and sang in glee club. They bonded over a mutual love for music and Steven Spielberg movies and eventually, Sebastian confessed that he loved to sing. The only person he could truthfully call his friend then taught him to play the piano and the two would have jam sessions in his basement._

_Sebastian did, however, follow Mitchell's footsteps as a serial womanizer. He had a record list of one-night stands and the occasional relationship never lasted more than a week or two. Given his background, Sebastian scoffed at the very thought of love. As far as he was concerned, it didn't exist. Only lust and desire._

_Mitchell did, of course, notice the fact that there seemed to be a different girl leaving the house every morning. And he was pleased. His son was finally learning the ways of life. While their relationship was nothing more than a formal one, they began speaking. Mitch was proud of the man his son had turned out to be, especially when it came to his views on emotions. As the years passed, they grew increasingly estranged till lastly, Sebastian chose his lifestyle of theft and severed any ties altogether._

_Yet here Sebastian was, feeling something other than lust for a girl. That would sever the only connection he had felt growing up with his father._

_But screw Mitchell Smythe. Santana was not just any girl. Sebastian's ability to love was probably obtained from the person who gave him the one feature on his face that hadn't been copied from his father – He had exactly his mother's eyes._

* * *

><p>Sebastian pulled out his wallet and from a hidden compartment extracted the photo reel. It was a black-and-white strip of photo booth images that he had taken with Santana a year previously. He smiled softly as he scanned through the seven photographs, happiness and trust clear in their eyes in every single one.<p>

They had been on vacation in Venice, Italy after a particularly successful assignment involving a messy divorce between a high-profile politician and his wife. The State Senator had been caught fooling around with a hot young Latina the same time his wife's affair with a green-eyed brunette was outed. With all the hatred and distractions of diverting the media and the law, no one had noticed the two 'other parties' had disappeared with a grand total of about US$700,000.

It had been one of their more triumphant busts.

As he scanned through the photos, he realized something new: The way they looked at each other. Previously, he had ruled it down to euphoria over the successful assignment and their vacation high, but now he saw something else. Was it… love?

His thoughts were a wreck. He could not face Graham Sexton like this. Taking a few deep, calming breaths, Sebastian put away the photos, slid his wallet into his back pocket and strode confidently on over to the main house.

* * *

><p>"You won't regret this, sir. I assure you." Sebastian reassured, standing from the leather sofa and fastening the button on his jacket. He extended a hand and plastered a charming grin on his face.<p>

"Oh I trust you." Graham accepted the hand, shaking it firmly. "Nice doing business with you, Scott. I can't believe the last time I saw you, you were trying to rip the head of my daughters' Barbie doll!"

"Neither can I, Sir. Not that I'd ever admit to playing with Barbies." Sebastian chuckled.

The two businessmen walked to the door and with a final parting handshake, Sebastian was on his way across the lawn.

He pulled out his phone and typed out a message to Santana, murmuring it aloud as he hit send.

"Mission accomplished."

* * *

><p><strong><em>3 Months Later – The Bahamas<em>**

His board shorts riding low on his hips, Sebastian strolled leisurely out to the balcony. Santana was lying on a deck chair, her face hidden behind the magazine she was reading. His eyes raked freely over her exposed body, taking in the bronze skin, the toned abdominals and legs that seemed to go on forever.

"Enjoying the show?" Her bored voice came from behind the glossy pages of the publication.

"Actually, yes." He replied. "Say, is that tattoo new?" Sebastian walked up to his partner, and lightly touched the printed skin on her exposed left hipbone. He brushed the ties on her bikini bottom aside to have a closer look at the intricately patterned array of swirls and dots, delicately woven into what resembled a pair of wings. On closer inspection, he noticed that they were actually drawn by a chain of words.

Before he could read the inscription, Santana smacked his hand away and covered herself with a towel, standing abruptly up from the deck chair and went back into the villa, muttering something about needing the bathroom.

Sebastian watched her leave, feeling thoroughly intrigued. All these years he had known Santana, he knew she had several tattoos scattered on various parts of her body. (What, he had seen her naked on multiple occasions, both on and off task) For most of them, if not all, Santana had told him some story behind. Apart from the mystery tattoo in her hip, Sebastian knew of these:

The musical notation along her lower left rib: A treble clef and the three main chorus notes of _"It's My Life"_ by _Bon Jovi. _This had been her very first tattoo, which she had gotten as a rebellion against her parents a few weeks before her seventeenth birthday. Teenage angst and what not, she felt the song choice seemed appropriate.

The ribbon on the nape of her neck. That one was for her Grandmother. Growing up, Santana's parents worked long hours and hence she was mostly raised by the elderly lady. Her _Abuela_ used to always tie bows into little Santana's dark, thick hair. When her beloved _Abuela_ passed away a few months after Santana's high school graduation, she decided to get the tattoo as a symbol of remembrance.

The word "Fearless" on her right wrist. She had told him that she had this one done because it symbolized herself, plus she thought the text design was really pretty.

There was also a small peace sign tattooed to her right ankle, a star on her right shoulder and flame on her lower back. Santana had simply shrugged these off saying she got them because she felt like it, which Sebastian was positive also involved certain levels of alcohol.

And the there was the inscription on her left arm. Two words beautifully printed so that one lay on her forearm and the other on her bicep. Unlike all her other tattoos, Sebastian was certain about the story behind this one. He had been there when she got it. As his fingers traced the identical words permanently etched into his own skin, he realized that there was more connecting them than just their matching tattoos.

* * *

><p>Santana splashed coldwater on her face. He had come so close to finding out. He couldn't. He never could or everything would change. She watched a droplet of water run down her left arm, minutely magnifying the two words encrypted into the crook of her elbow as it passed them over.<p>

Smooth Criminal.

The song that represented, yet changed, her life. Over the past few months Santana had had time to collect her thoughts and came to one conclusion: Her relationship with her partner had gotten a whole lot more complicated after that duet together. Up on that clichéd temporary stage, something in Santana Lopez's world had snapped, whether in our out of control she had yet to determine. It was as if she was floating in a hot air balloon, and abruptly one of the sandbags balancing her life had been slashed. She could possibly sail to discover greater new places, or drift off to darkness and be lost for good. It could go either way, and that was a risk she was not in any way ready to take.

But the tattoo could be innocent enough. Sebastian didn't need to know the level of motive behind those two simple words. Friends got matching tattoos all the time, right? When she 'offhandedly' propositioned the idea to her partner on their business class flight from New York to Paris after their assignment 3 months ago, she was secretly delighted but brushed it off with an indifferent "Cool." At least now, no matter what happened, they would always have that link.

Sighing deeply, Santana fixed her eye make up in the mirror and slipped on a sundress over her red bikini. They were on vacation – after the merger between Mercury and Venus had been made and their stock earnings flying through the roof, she and Sebastian had decided to take a break.

* * *

><p>Santana and Sebastian were on a plane to New York the same night they had feigned Scott Henley's identity and sealed the deal. They had stayed in their co-owned apartment on the Upper West Side to monitor the rigged stocks and enjoy the city. Confident as they were that their plans would work, the partners were still wracked with nerves as they awaited the changes in the stock market with barely concealed anticipation. They spent hours curled up in the plush sofa set in front of the television, watching and recording every significant change.<p>

On the third night, however, Sebastian announced that they should go out and enjoy the beauty of the city. Santana was anxious and fidgety from being cooped up at home, so she agreed to leave the confines of their apartment and let loose for the night.

She should have known that when Sebastian said they would be "enjoying the city lights", he really meant that they would be hitting up the hottest bars and clubs in the area.

The allies stumbled back into their apartment in the darkest hours of the following morning. Alcohol clouded their minds and both had forgotten how may shots they had consumed after losing count at the fifth.

They had fucked that night. A blacked-out haze of hurried movement, heavy breathing and frantic heartbeats. The night was fueled by pure passion and desire; not a trace of love or thoughts. It was sex. Teeth, tongue, fingernails and guttural moans and primal grunts; not gentle caresses, kisses and promises.

The next day, unbeknownst to each other, they had both feigned sleep for a few hours just to revel in the warmth of the other body pressed up against them, admiring the way they fit so perfectly together.

When they finally got out of bed (pretending as if nothing had happened, of course) to check the stocks, Santana and Sebastian both found themselves two million dollars richer.

They travelled. A lot. They stayed a few nights at Sebastian's apartment in Paris, a few more in a charming cottage in the English Countryside. Another week was spent in Rome. They made a circuit around Asia – Thailand, Singapore, The Philippines, Indonesia and Japan. Australia. New Zealand. The Cook Islands. And now the Bahamas.

This was the longest time they had ever spent together at a stretch in all their years of camaraderie. And both parties secretly agreed that it felt like no matter the destination, together was exactly the place where they were meant to be.

* * *

><p>Sebastian was absently-mindedly tossing frangipani petals into the crystal clear blue water floating beneath the balcony when he sensed her presence in the doorway.<p>

"Scott Henley is dead. He was murdered and the killer was caught at the scene… He claims he was working under the orders of Graham Sexton."

Having caught her partner's attention, Santana summarised a police report she had printed from the database they had hacked into.

"The accused claims to have been paid by Mr. Graham Sexton of Mercury Energy to assassinate Mr. Scott Henley, the successor of the Venus Energy, for forcing him into making a merger which led to the downfall of his company.

This serves as a plausible motive that if true, suggest Mr. Sexton's involvement in the case. Officer Winston had requested a warrant for an interrogation and to keep Sexton under surveillance at all times."

They stared at each other, expressions blank and lost for words. Finally, Santana broke the silence with a cracked whisper so soft he pretty much had to read her lips.

"Seb… that bullet was meant for you."

* * *

><p>Author's note: Hey y'all! Thanks for still reading (: Reviews are much loved and appreciated always.<p>

I'm sorry if it's a bit unclear… my brain's kinda fuzzy right now. There's so much going on! But just to clear things up – Sexton still didn't know that the person he had made the deal with wasn't the real Scott Henley when he hired the assassin, so obviously the killer went after the real one when he was given the name of his target. Who Sexton really wanted dead was Sebastian. Sexton now knows he was tricked because he saw the body and doesn't recognize it. Something tells me he won't be too happy about this piece of information…

Next up – The Forger


	5. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note**: Hey all, thanks so much for sticking around._

_This chapter is an edited repost. It's mostly the same as before but I added that extra bit at the end that was originally meant to be in the next chapter, but I thought it fit better in this one. Feel free to skip the earlier bits if you've already read it._

_Enjoy! (: _

* * *

><p>Thick as Thieves<p>

**Chapter 3 – The Forger**

"He must know by now. That I was a imposter."

"We caused the death of an innocent guy…"

"We've got to run. Sexton will be on our tail."

"We killed an innocent man."

"Santana?"

"Oh god. Oh god he actually _killed_ him. What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into? Goddamn it. What are we gonna do? He's gonna hunt us down and kill us and oh my god Sebastian…" Santana was hyperventilating by now. She collapsed to the ground, curling up in a ball; hugging her knees tightly to her chest and rocking slightly, eyes out of focus as she stared into space.

Seeing someone who was always in so much control completely lose it, terrified Sebastian to no end. He rushed over to the catatonic Santana and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"Santana? Baby, can you hear me? Snap out of it! We're gonna be fine. We've just got to get the hell out of here. Come on! I need you!"

Sebastian shook Santana sharply a few times to no avail. She was trembling, her entire body occasionally rocked by a minor spasm as her shell-shocked lungs fought for air. A sheen of cold sweat was forming on her forehead and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

He positioned himself directly in front of her, his face inches from hers. Her dark eyes were wide and unfocused, pupils slightly dilated though he knew she saw nothing. A single tear rolled down her cheek and she was gasping erratically.

He grabbed her head in his hands and tried to make her focus on him.

"Look at me. Santana, goddamn it look at me. You have got to snap out of this. If we stay, we're dead. We've got to keep moving. I need you to get up and pack your stuff, okay? We'll be fine. He's not gonna find us. Please. I'm begging you. Come back to me."

He stared desperately into her eyes, willing the Santana he knew to come back with some witty, snarky retort. This whimpering figure was not her. As the seconds passed, Sebastian felt tears beginning to form in his own eyes as realization dawned on him. Santana was right. Graham Sexton was out there with every intention of hunting Sebastian down and killing him. Chances were Russell Henley wasn't against the idea either, once the truth reached him that his company and son were lost at the hands of this imposter.

But wait – they were only after Sebastian! Santana didn't have to be a part of this; neither Sexton nor Henley knew about her involvement. She could get away and carry on living a proper life, not one on the run like what Sebastian was destined for. She could be safe and happy.

That was when he made up his mind. He would leave without her.

Santana's hysterics were starting to subside and her body started to go limp as she relaxed. Sebastian could not tell if she had fainted or fallen asleep, but all the same he picked her up and carried her over to the bed. He laid her down on the sheets and set and glass of water on the bedside table, pressing his lips tenderly to her forehead before shifting around the room and gathering his belongings.

Sebastian checked on his partner several minutes later, she was sound asleep, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He took a mental picture of her in that moment – peaceful expression on her face, lips parted slightly and long, curly eyelashes fanning across her cheek. This was how he wanted to remember her. No matter what happened to him, even if he ever saw her again, this would always be the image linked to the one person who meant the most to him in the world.

Slinging his bags over his shoulder, he stared longingly at the figure on the bed that looked so small, engulfed by the downy sheets. God, she was beautiful.

His legs had brought him to the side of the bed. He reached out an arm and stroked her face, cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand. A perfect fit.

Leaning over, he touched his lips lightly to hers.

It was intoxicating in the best way possible. Her scent was everywhere. Her satiny skin beneath his fingertips. The soft pressure of her plump, unmoving lips against his own. He pulled away, swallowing the air straight from her mouth.

Leaving her was torture. But it as all he could do to keep her safe. To keep the girl he loved out of harm's way.

* * *

><p>Walking towards the jetty, Sebastian pulled out his phone and strolled through his contacts. He found the name he was looking for and hit the call button. Despite the dull ache in his chest from having to leave, he smiled when he heard the voice on the other end answering on the fifth ring.<p>

"Hello?"

Ah. How he'd missed that upbeat tenor. "Sup, man. It's me."

There was pause at the other line, then the sound of someone exhaling a shaky breath. "You'd better not be who I think you are, you fucking bastard!"

"I've missed you too, Hobo!"

Laughter resonated through both ends of the call.

"Hey, man. It's so great to hear from you. How are things? Wait- are you in the Bay?"

"That's the thing, Blainers, I'm heading there now. I need help. Pronto."

"Oh god. Sebastian Smythe. What shit have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Sebastian saw the Seaplane pilot a couple of metres away and quickly waved a arm to catch his attention.

"It's hard to explain over the phone, but I can assure you it's urgent. And critical. I may require your… ah… special services?"

"Well damn. Someone's bitten off more than he can chew."

Sebastian loaded his bags into the plane and threw a wad of bills at the pilot before strapping himself in.

"Har-har. But really though, dude. This is serious. You could determine whether I live or die."

The other speaker lost all traces of his joking tone. "Sounds like you really fucked up this time, buddy. Come on over and I'll try my best. You know where to find me."

"Thank you, Blaine. So much. I'll see you tomorrow then."

The line went dead as the seaplane took off. Soon, they would reach the mainland and Sebastian could catch the next plane to San Francisco.

* * *

><p>Blaine Anderson had been Sebastian's best friend since high school. Sebastian was the most popular kid in school and Blaine was… well, not. But they had gotten along right from their first day as lab partners when one of the dumb hockey jocks tried to pour acid on Blaine's jacket as a joke, thinking it would burn a giant hole in his skin like in the movies. In reality, it was dilute, school laboratory sulfuric acid and the worst damage it would have done was to stain the dyes of the garment. Still, Sebastian had stopped him by pouring a salt water solution on the buffoon's crotch, telling him it was highly corrosive. The unlikely friends then nearly peed themselves laughing as the jock started jumping around and yelling, patting desperately at his groin and yelling "It burns!"<p>

Blaine taught Sebastian about music and the best friends would have jam sessions in the Anderson's basement followed by Halo marathons, much to the annoyance of Blaine's sister Rachel who always insisted that while their music was lovely, the loud noises of the game interfered with her vocal practice. Blaine always teased Sebastian about Rachel's crush on him, but Sebastian saw Rachel as his sister too and knew from the very start that nothing was ever going to happen between them (even if Blaine approved, that is. He was not unfamiliar with Sebastian's reputation in school… there was no way he was going to let Seb near his baby sister that way). Besides, Sebastian found Rachel a little overbearing and obnoxious.

When they graduated high school, Blaine was accepted into Julliard on a musical scholarship and Sebastian couldn't have been prouder of his best friend. It was everything the curly-haired dork had ever dreamed of. Sebastian was invited to study law in Columbia, but declined it in favour of an architectural course in NYU. That decision had been a major blow to his and his father's already non-existent relationship – Mitch was furious. Who in their right mind would decline an offer to Columbia Law for something as superficial architecture? Sebastian was positive that he had only gotten that offer because of Mitchell's name in the law scene. Besides, law just was not his interest. Well, upholding it, anyway.

The friends were roommate in New York and could both safely admit that those few years were the best of their lives. After graduating three years later, Blaine began pursuing a music career as a recording artist. He travelled back and forth between New York and Los Angeles so often that eventually, he made the tough decision of moving out of his and Sebastian's joint apartment to save on the rent money. Sebastian was cool with this, since he had been thinking of dropping out of college for a while then. He had lost interest and had decided his true calling lay… somewhere else.

As Sebastian began living his life of trickery, Blaine got signed by a big record company. His singing career took off immediately and he became a household name. Squeaky-clean image, a fresh, lively vibe, velvety vocals, undeniable charisma and a charming smile, Blaine was everyone's idol. He and Sebastian liked to laugh at what the bullies in high school must be thinking.

But while he loved this glamorous life – Blaine had a hidden profession, and this was what Sebastian needed assistance with to keep on the run.

See, Blaine Anderson, Grammy-nominee and Billboard chart-topper, was a Forger.

He specialized in travel and personal documentations; Fake ID's, passport, driver's licenses… name it, chances are he does it. He really was one of the best forgers in

The USA, though his services were only known by an exclusive handful of people.

Since settling down and getting married to Hollywood actress Quinn Fabray, the happy couple lived a quiet life in their native San Francisco, and this is where the two best friends would meet again for the first time in a long time.

* * *

><p>Santana woke up groggy and lost, blinking the glaring sunlight from her eyes as she tried to get a grasp on what was happening. Slowly, the memories flooded back, justifying the sticky, dried tear tracks on her face. She was furious with herself for reacting the way she did – that he had to witness that.<p>

As Santana mentally slapped herself, she realised how parched her throat was from all the hyperventilating and crying – almost as if it had been scrubbed raw by steel wool. She spotted the glass of water and quickly gulped it down, thankful for some relief from the cool liquid running down her sore throat.

Only when the glass was drained did she notice the photographs that had been laid on the bedside table next to the water ring from the glass. A strip of photo booth photos, minus the last shot that had been torn off. Santana picked up the single strip of black and white images and smiled adoringly at them as nostalgia washed over her. She remembered how she and Sebastian had argued over who got to keep the photos and he had ultimately won. As a matter of fact, Santana had forgotten all about these photos until now.

The first photo was of them with matching stunned facial expressions, the camera having gone off before they were ready and were taken by surprise by the flash. The next was of them doubled over in laughter from the previous photo's outcome. As the strip progressed their poses got increasingly silly. From bunny ears to monkey faces; him covering her eyes with his hands and resting his chin on her head as she tried to pry his hands off her face, a perfect smile gleaming beneath them.

Try as she might, she could not recall what the final missing photo had shown.

Suddenly, she felt like she couldn't breathe and climbed out of the bed to get some air. _"Maybe this is all a nightmare," _she thought. That would explain why Sebastian wasn't there, standing behind her with his arms resting on the railing on either side of her and his breath caressing the sensitive skin of her neck. After all, he was everything to her and losing him was her very worst fear. The very thought of living without him brought on a fresh round of dread.

She gazed out across the open sea, basking in the warm, orange glow of the setting sun. It would have been another beautiful, spectacular sunset – one of the many she had enjoyed in the time they had spent in the beach paradise – but she felt empty.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Approximately 2 weeks ago<em>**

"So where to next?" She asked conversationally.

She was seated cross-legged on the bed, packing them her acquisitions from their current stop of their world tour into a large maroon suitcase. Santana held up the Thai batik-painted skirt she had just purchased, admiring it for a moment before folding it neatly and stacking it on top of a bunch of her other findings from the (in)famous Chatuchak Market in Bangkok, Thailand.

"Wher'vr, 'eally, I don' mine." Came a garbled reply from the other end of the tastefully decorated suite. There was a brief pause filled with the sound of running water and some splashing on the sink. Sebastian's head emerged from the doorway of the bathroom. "You decide this time."

"Hmm," she considered, scanning through the many promotional travel pamphlets littered around her on the bed, the vibrant colours contrasting vividly with the pristine white of the unmade sheets. One of them caught her eye and she picked it up, reading through it. "How about Singapore?"

"Sounds perfect." The voice came from much closer than she expected, and looked up to see her partner standing next to her, a towel draped loosely around his hips and reading over her shoulder. His eyes darted over the words on the page and Santana took the opportunity to scan him once over. His hair was damp, standing up at odd angles with a few strands falling on his forehead. Those eyes were bright and green as ever; his freshly-shaven face clean and smooth. He smelt of peppermint toothpaste and soap, but beneath the scents of a recent shower, she could pick up traces of _him_. The familiar scent of honey, coffee and something vaguely woody. Sandalwood? She didn't know. But whatever it was, it was so distinctly Sebastian. That scent drove her wild, it was a drug to her.

"Singapore it is, then. It's settled. Oh my gosh the new Universal Studios is open now, we should go check it out! You can do your shopping and I can visit my electronics hubs and we can tour the city on the bus-"

Sebastian stopped talking when he saw Santana staring appreciatively at his exposed torso. He smirked widely at the expression on her face.

"So much for discretion these days, huh, Santana?"

"Oh please." She dragged her eyes up to meet his. "Like any of that seemed to matter to you last night."

He grinned widely at her and she fought back a smile. His hands moved to the loose knot of the towel that was keeping it up and began fiddling with it, his smirk growing impossibly wider. Hands keeping the towel up, he began wiggling his hips suggestively and making eyebrow gestures worthy of a vaudeville villain from a cheesy black and white movie. He looked utterly ridiculous. Unable to hold back her laughter anymore, she burst out in a fit of giggles, slapping his hands as he jumped back to avoid the hit. The towel slipped from his hips and fell in a pool around his ankles…

Despite the fact that he wearing a pair of black boxer briefs, Sebastian still made a Marilyn Monroe-esque act of covering himself with one hand while the other was held to his mouth in a look of mock surprise.

Her giggles escalated in to full on hysterics and she fell back on the bed laughing. Santana hadn't laughed that hard in ages and it felt amazing. Warmth spread through her, right to the very tips over her fingers and toes. She felt nearly giddy with happiness. The endorphins numbed her senses pleasantly, to the point where she barely registered the fingers jabbing at her sides and making her squeal.

"I never knew you were ticklish!" Sebastian choked out between laughter. He relentlessly poked at her sides, doing his fake evil laugh.

"Ah! No! Lemme go! Stop it!" Santana squirmed as she fought to control her giggles and wriggle out from where she was trapped beneath him. "Lemme go! Release me." She demanded.

"Never!"

"Ahhh oh my god. Stop!"

"What's the magic word?"

"Fuck you, Smythe."

"What was that? I didn't catch it."

"Fuck. Stop already!"

"Not until you stay please. With cherries on it."

"Oh god. Please. Stop! Please!"

"That's a girl." He stopped tickling her to instead hover above her, propped up on his elbows.

She was gasping for breath. "Ungh. That was not fair. Fuck you."

"If you insist."

"Oh shut up."

They gazed at each other, eyes watery from all the laughter and faces completely carefree.

Her eyes were crinkled up in what he could only describe as pure exultation. Her face flushed and full lips stained with colour. It felt like the right thing to do, so he lowered his face and joined their lips together in a kiss. She responded enthusiastically, tangling her fingers in his still-damp hair and nibbling gently on his lower lip.

Unlike the night before, all they did that morning was make out and cuddle.

They had had a blast in Singapore, staying in the brand new world class hotel Marina Bay Sands. They spent the days shopping and sightseeing around the lively island and the evenings up in the infinity pool watching the laser light display over the beautiful city lights. They had visited the recently-opened Universal Studios on Sentosa Island and had an amazing time. (They both agreed that the Battlestar Galactica Roller Coaster was the best and had sat on it a total of about fifteen times.) Being the huge Steven Spielberg fan that he was, Sebastian had insisted on buying a cheesy Dinosaur hat from the Jurassic Park-themed "The Lost World" section of the park, wearing it around for the rest of the day. Santana had rolled her eyes but secretly thought he looked unbearably adorable even with a Velociraptor appearing to be biting his head off.

After Singapore they had spent a few nights up in Genting Highlands in Malaysia, the Las Vegas of the peninsular. The cold mountain air was a refreshing change after the heat and humidity of Singapore's climate, and Santana and Sebastian were fascinated to be in a city perched amongst the mountains and constantly in the clouds. They were felt like they were literally where the land met the sky.

It had been fun and glamorous, but the quiet tranquillity of a beach resort were what they were both yearning after the rush and hustle of Asia. This had led them to the Bahamas, where the joy of the trip would seemingly take a drastic turn.

Because what they were being faced with now was the exact opposite of calm and peaceful.

* * *

><p>The missing Photobooth image popped to her mind without warning. She felt like wind had been knocked from her lungs and blinked rapidly to try and clear the picture from her mind. Stumbling back into the room (stubbing her toe on the doorframe on the way), she bustled around the room and grabbed her belongings, haphazardly stuffing them into her suitcase.<p>

Tears were filling her eyes and blurring her vision when she understood his absence. Why he had left her without a single trace; a note or letter saying goodbye. He was trying to protect her. The people who were after them would track them to this place and he couldn't risk them finding out that she was more than just his oblivious fiancée, that she was just as involved in this as he was.

But he was wrong if he thought that she'd let him claim that photo and never see her again.

That photo was hers, god damn it. That was _her_ cheek he was kissing, _her_ face scrunched up in delight. That little display of affection, the innocent kiss on the cheek, was all she had to shake away the monsters of doubt in her mind. There was no way in hell that that bastard was going to get away with taking the only evidence she had that possibly, the boy she loved was in love with her too.

* * *

><p>"Hey pretty lady, it's Santana. I'm gonna need your help, okay? I don't have time to explain but I'll see you sometime within the next few days. I've missed you! Love ya, <em>mi amigo<em>."

She frowned when the call went to voicemail - she was really hoping to hear her old friend's voice again. But then again, she probably was incredibly busy, so she shrugged it off as she turned her phone off, boarding the plane.

She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she almost didn't flip off he man leering at her three seats over.

"_Hopefully,_" she thought, slipping comfortably into her seat "_everything is going to be okay_."


	6. Chapter 4

**Thick as Thieves**

**Chapter 4 – The Best Friend**

* * *

><p>Orange. That's what everything was. It was all he saw, a blank screen of warm, glowing orange. Sunlight was streaming through the window and burning on the other side of his closed eyelids. He mustered up the courage to open them a fraction before the blinding brightness made him force them shut again immediately.<p>

Sebastian groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head and willing himself to go back to sleep.

Voices drifted in from the kitchen as the scent of hot breakfast filled the air. Toast and bacon and eggs… his stomach grumbled in protest of his decision to stay in bed. Finally, the combined feelings of emptiness of both his stomach and his emotions became too much for him to bear and he sat up, accustoming his eyes to the sunlight. Even if his chest couldn't feel whole again without Santana, at least he could fill his stomach with some food.

He ran a hand over his messy hair and dragged it down his face.

"You're doing the right thing, big guy." He muttered to himself.

He stood up and stretched out his stiff muscles before grabbing his things and heading to the bathroom for a hot shower to get his blood pumping. It wasn't cold, but the San Francisco fog left a chill hanging in the air.

When Sebastian stepped into the kitchen twenty minutes later, Quinn had just laid a plate of sausages, bacon and scrambled eggs on the dining table for him.

"Morning, Sunshine" She greeted, her warm smile fitting in with the cheery, homely feel of the room. "Here's your breakfast. Blaine's in the yard with Summer; he should be back soon. Go ahead, dig in!"

"Wow. Thank you so much, Quinn. You really didn't need to though."

"Nonsense. You're our guest right now; It's my obligation to look after you."

Sebastian was just about to respond when Blaine burst into the house, a cream-coloured dog bounding in behind him. Blaine looked at Sebastian for a moment, a mischievous grin appearing on his face.

"Look, Summer! New friends! Go go go say hello!" he chanted in a happy, silly voice.

Tail wagging, the golden retriever ran up to Sebastian and started nudging his hands, asking for attention. When he leant down to pat the dog, it promptly licked a wide strip up his face, from his chin to his forehead.

"Argh! Gross!" he yelled, laughing and giving the dog plenty of pats as she sat next to his chair, looking very pleased with herself.

Quinn and Blaine were in hysterics themselves, but when everyone finally calmed down (Summer got a toy to play with in the corner) they sat down together for breakfast.

They talked about fond memories of the past, including Quinn and Blaine's wedding. It had been a quiet ceremony in the nearby forest, away from the prying eyes of the media trying to get coverage of the perfect Hollywood couple's special day. The gorgeous young starlet Quinn Fabray to be wed to one of the music scene's biggest rising stars – It was almost a match made in Hollywood heaven. Sebastian was the best man, of course, and it filled him with joy to see his best friend so happy. Marriage had never been something he'd ever dreamed of for himself.

But had that view changed just because of one stunning Latina? He pondered over this, distracted from the rest of the conversation when a shrill ringing brought him back to his senses.

"Sorry, I've got to take this call. Please excuse me." Quinn pardoned herself and went to the next room to take the call.

Blaine was the first to break the comfortable silence. "So… you gonna tell me what's going on, buddy? What's so important that you need new documents?"

Sebastian sighed and recounted his story, from the very start to what had happened two nights ago. How he was being hunted and was on the run, how he needed to fake his way through the rest of his life. When he finished the tale, Blaine stared at him with a thoughtful expression, processing what his best friend had just said. Blaine chose his next words carefully.

"What's happened to your partner? The girl?"

Sebastian's chest constricted painfully at that. "I left her in the Bahamas. She's safer this way. I don't think they know she's involved. She can go on with life and be happy. She deserves it."

Blaine assessed the way those words left Sebastian's mouth. In all his years of knowing him, he had never seen the lanky brunette look so vulnerable. Hunched over, eyes burning a hole in the floor, the way his voice wavered just the slightest as he all but whispered the last statement. Was it possible that the womanizing playboy he knew had softened? That Sebastian Smythe, of all people, had learned to care or even love?

Blaine glanced over at his wife in the lounge, blonde hair falling over her shoulders in gentle waves as her eyes lit up while she chuckled at something over the phone. He was filled with warmth to know that he loved her more than anything and she felt the same. It was the most amazing feeling he could describe, and he knew that that was what he wanted for Sebastian. After all the crap his closest friend had dealt with in his early life, he deserved it. He deserved to know what it felt like to love and be loved.

But now, based on the recount Sebastian had told him, it seemed like that chance had just been pulled from beneath him. Just as he opened up his heart, it was ripped out and left to bleed by cruel fate.

Turning back to Sebastian, he lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on. I'll help you." He reassured "Who knows, maybe one day you'll be able to come home with her and settle down. No more life on the run."

Sebastian's hopeful eyes softened with gratitude.

"Thanks, man. That would be incredible."

Blaine had a second of warning when Sebastian's expression morphed into a cheeky grin before he was being tackled in a massive hug. A ceramic plate fell off the table and shattered with a loud crash.

"Bro hug!" The taller man exclaimed as the two ended up rolling around on the wooden floors in a weird embrace/assault.

Just like old times.

* * *

><p>"Hello?"<p>

"Q! Oh god I've missed the sound of your voice."

"Snix? Oh honey it is you! How are you, gorgeous?"

"I'd say great, but that's be lying. How are YOU?"

"What's up, love? Oh I'm fine. Are you in town?

"Actually, yes."

"Is everything okay, sweetie? This sounds like Santana talking, not Auntie Snixx…"

"Oh shut up white girl. Afores I ends you."

They both sniggered.

"Anyway listen. Can I meet you sometime today?"

"Of course! I'd say come by my place, but Blaine's got a friend over and they're being noisy. So how about a coffee with my girl?"

"Ah. I can imagine. How is Blaine? Tell him I say hi."

"Oh he's great. Working on a new album. Trying to beat his high score on Mario Kart. The usual."

Santana heard the noise of something clattering and smashing in the background. "Well, seems like your hands are full right now. I should probably go. See you at our usual place at Three o'clock?"

"I's better go check what happened. I'm sorry. I'll see you in a few hours!" Quinn hesitated. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Santana smiled a tiny smile at her best friend's words. "I know. Just not over the phone. Seeya in a bit, Q."

"Seeya, Snix."

Quinn entered the dining room to see her husband and his best friend entangled on the floor in a jumble of limbs, Sebastian pulling at Blaine's curly hair and Blaine appeared to actually have his teeth sunk into Sebastian's forearm. Summer had decided to join in and was standing to the side with her tail wagging enthusiastically, contemplating which angle was best to pounce in.

Quinn didn't know whether to laugh or yell. Instead, she sighed, shook her head and retrieved a broom to sweep up the shards of the broken plate.

The sound of the trash can snapping shut caused the two men to stop their play fighting and sheepishly face the blonde actress. She stared them down with a stern expression on her face, though the straight line she had her mouth in began to twitch up at the corners when the two grown men sitting in front of her turned their "puppy eyes" mode up to full notch.

"Oh help. I married a five year-old." She exclaimed with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Well excuse me! I take offense at the statement!" Blaine cried in mock offense. "I'm five-and-a-half" he corrected.

"You're impossible." Quinn said, leaning over to give her husband a peck on the lips.

Sebastian watched the exchange with a smile on his face and an ache in his heart. He wanted what they had. He wanted it with Santana.

"So who called?" Blaine asked.

"Snix! She's back in town and wants to meet up for coffee. Oh and she says hi, B."

"Aw that's nice of her. How is she?"

A little crease formed between Quinn's eyebrows as she thought about the question. "I don't know… she said she's in a bit of a fix but wouldn't elaborate on it. Well, I guess I'll find out soon enough. Would you boys like to join us for coffee?"

"I would say yes, but Sebastian here is an arrogant little douchebag and I wouldn't want to start World War III when he and Auntie Snix board the Bitchtown express."

Blaine and Quinn exchanged a look and burst out laughing; imagining just how venomous any exchange between their respective best friends would end up being.

"Wait. Hold up. Who the hell is this Auntie Snix?" Sebastian was completely lost. And he both resented and accepted being called an arrogant douchebag.

Quinn pitched in to answer his confusion.

"She's a close friend of mine. Her Grandmother used to be a part-time housekeeper for my family and would sometimes bring her granddaughter along. That's when we first became friends. We later went to high school and college together. Snix isn't her real name, it's just a nickname she gave her Queen Bitch alter-ego and seeing as she was in bitch mode 80% of the time, the name kind of stuck."

"Whoa. Okay. She sounds completely bonkers. I think I'll stick with Blaine on this one and pass on the coffee date. Sorry, Quinn."

"Hmm. Blaine and I actually planned on introducing you two at our wedding, but unfortunately she couldn't come."

"Besides, based on the number of ruined bridesmaid dresses returned to us after the wedding, I think it's safe to say that Sebastian Smythe didn't have an entirely bad time either, eh?" Blaine added with a wink.

"You know it, brother." Sebastian and Blaine exchanged a knowing smirk while Quinn rolled her eyes.

"_Men_." She thought.

* * *

><p>Santana stared at her phone as she sat on the hotel's bed.<p>

She missed Quinn. They had been best friends (and enemies) for as long as she could remember. From begging her Abuela to take her along whenever she went to the Fabray's Residence to have play dates with the little blonde girl, to becoming co-captains of the cheerleading team, the girls were practically joined at the hip. They had been there for each other through thick and thin; break ups, failures, parent issues. Happiness, graduation, homecoming crowns.

There was one moment they had shared, however, that Santana seriously doubted she would ever forget.

_It was after nationals. The cheer squad had placed first, achieving the coveted title of national cheer champions. The Football team had also won the league finals, and quarterback Noah Puckerman decided that this was cause for a celebration (everything was, to Puck) – Frat Party style._

_It had reached the point of the night where everyone was more than a little tipsy, and when senior student Justin Walters yelled out that a game of spin the bottle was starting, everybody gathered around._

_Quinn had been flirting with a cute blonde named Sam Evans all night. She had liked him for quite a while and it was clear he felt the same. Heck, everybody had a crush on Quinn. She was gorgeous. The only difference in this case was that the feelings were actually reciprocated on her part._

_The alcohol in their systems had removed any and all inhibitions and Quinn and Sam had been practically eyefucking all night. Santana had made out with three football players already._

_When Quinn spun the bottle, casting sultry glances at Sam, she was hoping it would land on him. Everything had been going perfectly for her that night, who was to say this wouldn't too?_

_Imagine everyone's delight when the bottle stopped at none other than her best friend, Santana Lopez._

_The boys all jeered and catcalled in anticipation, eager to watch the two hottest girls in school make out. Jeez, Quinn never understood why guys found girl-on-girl action hot. It must be a characteristic of the Y chromosome, along with supreme pigheadedness and a severe inability to ask for directions._

_Anyway rules were rules, and Santana and Quinn locked lips._

_Even though they were both completely comfortable with their sexualities, they had to admit that that was one of the hottest make outs both parties had ever had. And that said a lot, solely based on the number of people they had made out with._

_Quinn was overwhelmed. Alcohol was coursing through her veins and making her dizzy, the catcalls and cheers of the people around the room an energetic buzz. The lips against hers were the softest she had ever felt, as was the overheating skin wherever it came to contact with Santana's._

_Lost in the moment, she climbed onto her best friend's lap, thighs straddling either side of those tanned legs and got her hands tangled in the dark, luscious hair. She could taste the spirits on the Latina's tongue but somehow that only turned her on even more. The kiss lasted far longer than the average round, but no one was complaining._

_When they broke apart several minutes later, the room had fallen silent. The boys were staring dumbfounded with varying degrees of blown pupils. When they met eyes of the two cheerleaders, who were looking around the room as if nothing had happened, a few of the boys blushed and excused themselves from the room, awkwardly clutching throw pillows to try and hide their 'problems'._

_The girls left the party shortly afterwards. Nothing much more exciting had happened anyway, apart from Quinn spending the rest of the evening in a serious make out session with Sam and Santana stripping on the coffee table. Not to mention the fact that Coach Stevenson was resuming cheer practice the following afternoon, even though it was the Saturday after their victory ("Success has its sacrifices!" the middle-aged woman had often chanted)._

_When they reached Santana's house (her parent's were away for the weekend), they immediately picked up where they had left off at the party, finally falling asleep in each other's arms._

_The next day was like any other for the two best friends. Together, they led the Cheerleading squad to another successful national championship. Quinn dated Sam for the rest of high school until they both left to different states for college, though the Brangelina of their senior class remained close friends. Santana continued on with her promiscuous ways all through high school and college._

_That night after the party was never mentioned again by either one of them. They both assumed that because of the alcohol involved, the other didn't remember the less-than-innocent events that had unfolded. Besides, it was a one-off thing. They never saw each other in that way; they were completely straight. If anything, it strengthened their bond; their friendship and mutual trust skyrocketing to a whole new level._

_It was the one night that made them both realize that no matter what happened, they would always be there for one another._

_Best friends, helping each other out, forever and always._

* * *

><p>Quinn waltzed into the small café that she had practically lived in all through high school and college. She and Santana had discovered it during their freshman year and had been frequenting it ever since. It appeared nondescript from the outside, which was perfect for her in this case since she was trying to hide from the lurking paparazzi. The interior of the place, however was cozy, homely and quirky. It was a fine mix of warm mahogany furnishings and mismatched modern pieces. It was strange and fun, and Quinn absolutely adored it. The little coffee shop was also where she and Santana had grown up, having spent so much of their crucial teenage years there together after school and cheer practices. Not to mention, the place made a killer hot chocolate.<p>

Entering the warmth of the tiny shop caused a sense of nostalgia to momentarily flash through her mind. The delicious aroma of fresh brewed coffee and home made cookies filled her nostrils and she inhaled deeply, sighing in contentment.

Her startlingly green eyes scanned the store as she cautiously peered over the tops of her sunglasses. She could never be too careful when it came to the prying eyes of the media. Quinn really hated this part of the celebrity lifestyle. She and Blaine had to constantly fight for privacy. Sometimes, she almost felt like she was a fugitive on the run. The bitter thoughts were quickly replaced by one of pure joy as she saw her best friend sitting in their usual booth at the back of the cafe, her slender fingers drumming lightly on the table (which was really an old, converted door. God, Quinn loved the furnishing).

She strode over to the table and slid herself into the seat opposite Santana, a wide grin lighting up her face.

"Q! Oh my god. Hi! How are you?" Santana lunged forward across the table and threw arm arms around her best friend.

Quinn laughed and wrapped her arms around the Latina's waist in a tight hug.

"I'm great! Missed you though."

"Same here, Quinn, same here."

After giving each other gentle pecks on the cheeks, the ladies settled back down in their seats and ordered their drinks.

And then they talked. They had so much to catch up on. The last time Santana and Quinn had seen each other had been months ago, and the former had sent pretty much the whole meeting wrecked with guilt and apologizing for having missed her closest friend's wedding. Quinn had shot down every apology, and though she admitted she was a little sad that her Maid of Honour could be there, no one wanted Santana's aunt to suddenly pass away from an unexpected heart attack.

Right now, as Santana watched Quinn recount the story of how she and Blaine had decided to get a puppy, she felt incredibly happy for her fellow cheerleader. There was no doubt that Quinn was completely happy with her life. She worked hard to get where she was, she was a great person, and it seemed only fair that life was good to her. It was evident that she loved her husband as much as he loved her, she was living her dream life and and she adored her job.

Santana felt her heart twinge whenever Quinn mentioned Blaine. There was a way Quinn said his name, almost like worship. Her eyes would simultaneously light up and glaze over and excitement and dreaminess, and the name rolled off her tongue in almost a purr, caressing the vowels and consonants and a rich, melodious tone. Quinn and Blaine was the perfect couple who loved each other more than they loved themselves. If Santana believed in any of the crap, what they had was true love of the purest form.

Santana had never even considered this as an option for herself; her life of promiscuity had led her to always believe that she would never settle, never find her 'soul mate' simply because he didn't exist. She used to cringe at the very thought of having to spend forever with the same person.

Things were different now, of course, because of one Sebastian Smythe.

"… so when we visited the breeder on the day we had to pick out one puppy, I was stressing since I had no idea how to choose just one, and Blaine was in a similar dilemma. Then the smallest girl, the very pale, almost white-blonde one woke up and walked head-first into the glass sliding door! It was adorable. Blaine and I exchanged a look and we knew that she was the one. We brought Summer home the next week."

Santana smiled at her friend's enthusiasm. But Quinn knew her long enough to know that there was some turmoil bubbling beneath the tough exterior Santa had put up.

"So yeah. Sorry to Ramble on… Hey, are you alright?"

"I wish I could say yes, Q. I really do. But I'm afraid I'm going to need your help."

"Anything, Snix. Anything."

"Well, so here goes…"

Santana told Quinn the recent events that had unfolded, leaving Sebastian out as much as possible. The last thing she wanted was for her girl to get dragged into their mess. But she needed Quinn, she needed the special help that only the stunning blonde starlet had to offer.

Because Quinn Fabray had some secrets of her own.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> _Hi all, lots of dialogue this chapter! Hope it didn't get too confusing... Anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter (: (Teehee, almost-encounter between the two partners right there...)_

_I'm going to be away from any internet connect for the next few days, so unfortunately the next update will probably only be around next weekend. I'm trying my best._

_**Next up**: We find out a little more about Quinn's involvement and why Santana needs her help specifically. Blaine and Sebastian are reminded of just why they became best friends in the first place and another glee character makes a special appearance..._


	7. Chapter 5

_**Author's note**: Hi everyone! Thanks for sticking around. I am so unbelievably grateful for all those who reviewed... You inspire and encourage me to write! I have no excuse for this late update other than being insanely busy with school work (I was at camp for a week and have heaps to catch up on), but it's here now. So I really, really hope this chapter was worth the wait._

_Enjoy! (:_

* * *

><p>Thick as Thieves<p>

Chapter 5 - The Hacker

_"Quinnie, Daddy and I are going to see some of his colleagues for dinner. We'll be home very late so don't wait up for us, okay?"_

_Quinn nodded silently as she watched her mother put on a pair of sparkly diamond earrings. She looked on in awe as the glamorous blonde applied a fresh coat of dark red lipstick and smack her lips. Her mother was gorgeous, and Quinn wanted to be just like her._

_Judy Fabray shimmied into a sequined silver dress that draped over her petite frame flawlessly and pulled on a pair of strappy grey heels. She adjusted the diamond choker round her neck and gave her face a final speculative look in the vanity mirror. Satisfied, she turned to her daughter with a smile._

_"Can you please help zip me up, darling?"_

_Quinn all but ran forward and reached for the zipper of her mother's dress, eager to feel the silky material flowing through her fingers. With a gentle hand, she sealed the zipper and hooked on catch at the top. She smoothed down inexistent crinkles in the smooth fabric one final time before stepping back._

_"Thank you, sweetheart. Take care and be good, I'll see you in the morning. I love you!" Judy hugged Quinn close before running out the double doors of her bedroom._

_Quinn looked in the mirror and sighed. She picked up random bottle of various products on the dresser, not bothering to read the labels before setting them back down. She sprayed a thin mist of perfume on her wrists and rubbed them together, inhaling the sweet scent that always seemed to surround her mother. She walked over to the enormous walk in wardrobe and stepped inside. She ran her hands through the rack of hanging ball dresses, the many hundreds her mother owned for all her social events. Quinn was startled when she caught a glimpse of a girl watching her, but was relieved to find it was just her reflection in the full-length mirror on the far wall. This relief was quickly replaced by sadness when she studied the girl in the mirror._

_At the age of eleven, the first signs of puberty were just beginning to emerge. She felt awkward and gangly, covered in a layer of baby fat though her limbs remained scrawny and long. She never knew what to do with her mousy, dirty blonde hair and her braces were hideous. She hated her body, she hated how she looked. Looking at her mother, with her flowing, perfect blonde waves and slender yet curvy silhouette, Quinn just felt so envious. All she wanted was to be perfect and pretty like her mum._

_All through middle school, she was mocked for her braces and shy nature. She was pushed around for being a wallflower. The summer before her freshman year, everything changed for Quinn Fabray._

_She had her braces removed, exposing a row of perfect, white teeth. She had her hair professionally styled and dyed into a lighter shade of honey blonde. She discovered makeup to accentuate her high cheekbones and stunning green eyes. She went shopping with her best friend Santana to get a brand new wardrobe to show off her flat tummy, long legs and the new curves of her chest and hips. Quinn had decided that she had had enough of being a Nobody, and high school was her chance to start over, this time at the top._

_Things changed at home, too. Her father had noted the changes in his daughter's appearance, and decided it was about time she could get involved in his field of work. He had always wanted to make it a family business of sorts, anyhow. His wife was the epitome of the perfect Mafia wife, and his daughter would now make a beautiful addition for others to admire at his gatherings with other gangs._

_But by sophomore year, Quinn had had enough of her family's crimes. She decided she wanted nothing else to do with the Mafia Empire her father was leaving for her to succeed. She moved on and swore never to go back to that life again._

_Only now, a request from her best friend was about to make her relive the very lifestyle that she had promised herself she'd never resort to._

* * *

><p>"Please, Quinn. I'm begging you." Santana pleaded. "You know I wouldn't do this if I knew any other way."<p>

As Santana looked at her best friend sitting across from her with an expressionless mask, she felt her heart sink to her gut. Quinn wasn't going to do this. Not that she had expected any less – she knew just how much Quinn hated the life that she was meant to live – but at least she had hope. But as the seconds ticked by with no reaction from the blonde, Santana was beginning to lose that, too.

"Please. I can't… just please."

After what felt like hours, Quinn stirred. The distant look in her eyes cleared and the huge green orbs focused on Santana. Awaiting the imminent rejection, Santana stared at the table and tried her hardest to hold back the tears that were threatening to form.

"Okay."

The word was spoken so quietly that Santana thought she had imagined it, but when she looked up, she saw the single tear rolling down Quinn's cheek and she knew her ears weren't playing tricks on her.

Quinn cleared her throat, wiped her eyes and composed herself before repeating herself with more vigor. "Okay. I'll do it."

Santana all but threw herself across the table to hug her friend, choking out a profuse string of 'thank you's through relieved and grateful sobs. Chuckling lightly, Quinn hugged her back.

"So. Anyway. Just to clear things up: You would like to pose as a CIA agent to keep and eye on things from the inside?"

Santana sheepishly nodded. "Not one of my greater ideas, I know, but it's the best I've got."

Quinn quickly cut her off. "Actually, I like that plan. I'll give my cousin a call. I'm sure he can do something to get you in... He's the best hacker I know."

"Thank you so much, Q. I'll owe you forever for this."

"This guy… you're risking everything for him. Are you sure of this? There's no turning back once Artie hacks into the system."

Santana chewed on her lip, but when she spoke, it was clear and with no trace of hesitation. "I'm sure. Sebastian's everything to me. I can't lose him. Not now, not ever."

A confused look crossed Quinn's face at the mention of the name, but before Santana could question it, the bell of the café's door jingled merrily. Next thing she knew, Flash lights were going off rapidly and blinding her as the clicks of what felt like a thousand cameras filled the formerly quiet space. People were shouting Quinn's name along with a multitude of questions as the two former cheerleaders pulled their jackets over their heads to shield their eyes and hide their faces. The café owner was furiously trying to usher the paparazzi out, swearing in Italian, while her son quickly led the pair to the back room.

Quinn was tapping vigorously at her phone, sending an urgent text to Blaine to come pick them up before dialing her Manager to create a diversion of sorts to disperse the crowd. The string of swear words leaving the Beauty Queen's normally smiley mouth seemed out of place, but after the ordeal, Santana didn't blame her. She was still in shock herself; her heart still racing and adrenaline pumping.

Finally, having raged and vented over the phone for long enough, Quinn hung up and turned back to Santana.

"I'm so sorry. I hate what they do to us sometimes. Those scumbags have no regard towards privacy whatsoever. They don't understand that I'm a human being, not some museum exhibit." She scoffed in disgust. "But anyway. Here's the deal… Blaine's coming to pick you up in the Lexus any moment now, and then his friend Sebastian is going to come get me in the BMW in five minutes time. We can't have Blaine pick me up because that's going to attract too much attention. We're gonna have to leave separately. I'm so sorry!"

"Wait! Sebast-"

"Blaine's here! Quick, I need you to stroll round the back. I'm going to make a diversion at the front; I just want you to walk out as casually as you can. Don't talk to anyone. Just straight into the car, got it?"

"But who's Seb-"

"Go! Now!"

With that, Quinn plastered a million-dollar smile on her face and stepped out of the back room to face the hundred cameras pointed right at her.

* * *

><p>In her hurry to leave the building unscathed, Santana forgot all about Blaine's mystery friend who shared the name of the boy who was everything to her. She climbed into the passenger seat without any paparazzi noticing, and when within the safety of the tinted windows gave Blaine a hug and kiss on the cheek.<p>

"How are you, my dearest Santana?"

"A little shocked, but okay." She smooth down the front of her dress. "Geez, how do you guys put up with this shit from the media on a daily basis?"

Blaine chuckled darkly in response. "Part and parcel of the job, I guess. So anyway, Quinn tells me you've been feeling a little down? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"That's really sweet, Blainers. I knew there had to be a good reason why Quinn married you." she teased. "Besides, I think Q's the best person to help me right now. She has the… contacts, I need."

"Hey now. Watch it, Lopez. And what help is it my dear wifey has to offer that I don't?"

"Oh, um… well, I guess it's a girl thing?" Santana was getting uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was headed. Blaine was so easy to talk to with his bubbly, charming personality that she had almost given away both her own and Quinn's biggest secrets. She often forgot that Blaine was unaware of Quinn's family background, or how Santana earned her living. As far as he was concerned, his wife came from a family of successful business tycoons and Santana worked as a paralegal in a law firm in Seattle.

"Ah. Lady issues. I best stay out of this then. Just feel free to let me know if I can do anything to help, okay?" He added with genuine concern.

Santana was moved by his offer. "Thank you Blaine. Truly. Quinn's lucky to have you."

"And I her."

The pair slipped into a comfortable silence for the rest of the ride to Santana's hotel, occasionally singing along to whatever song was on the radio. When one of Blaine's records came on, he endured some rather ruthless teasing from the Latina, but it was all in good fun and he was impressed when she knew every lyric by heart. By the time they pulled up at the luxury building, their sides were sore from all the laughing.

"Thanks for the ride, Blaine. I really hope to see you soon."

"It was my pleasure. Sorry to put you through that frenzy with the paps. And yeah, how long will you be in town?"

"I'm not sure. I still have some things to tie up with Quinn. I'll keep you posted, okay?"

"Okay. Bye, Snix."

"Adios, Baby Boy Blainers."

As she watched the silver Lexus pull out of the hotel driveway, she smiled to herself. She couldn't have hoped for a better man for her best friend.

The next thought came to her entirely out of the blue: She found herself wondering if Quinn would approve of Sebastian as much as she did of Blaine.

* * *

><p>Quinn stormed into house, throwing her bag aside and draping her coat messily over the arm of a sofa before marching into the kitchen. Sebastian followed a few steps behind, tossing the car keys into the frosted glass bowl on the chest set in the entryway.<p>

"We're back!" he called.

A head of curly dark hair appeared at the top of the stairwell. "Oh good. I was just getting worried. Is everthing alright?"

"Yeah. We had to take a detour to shake the paparazzi off, but otherwise we got back alright." Sebastian shook his head in awe "Man, I can't believe you have to deal with that crap all the time. It's so fucked up."

"It really is. It annoys us both to no end but Quinn acts out on her frustration more."

"No shit. You should have seen and heard her on the ride back."

"I know exactly what it must have been like. I'm sorry dude."

"Nah it's all good. I don't blame her. I'd be barking mad if I were in her shoes."

"Well then thanks for understanding. We should leave her alone to cool off for a bit. She's probably baking something to distract herself."

"Sure thing. She scares me when she's like this, and home baked food… yum."

The two men grinned at each other.

"Well, let's get to work then."

* * *

><p>The basement of the Anderson-Fabray household had been converted into a moviegames room; complete with plush beige carpet, both a foosball and pool table in the corner, and all the latest gaming consoles wired up to a high definition projector. Oh, and the entire space was littered with an array of brightly-coloured beanbags.

"Beanbags. Really, Blaine? How old are you, man?"

"Shut up and don't diss the beanbags. They're awesome."

Sebastian shook his head and chuckled, following behind his best friend as he led them to the far wall of the room, which was pretty much a huge bookshelf. Blaine bent down and carefully pulled out the contents of the bottom most left shelf, laying them on a neat pile on the carpet. He removed the wooden panel that was functioning as the back of the bookcase, revealing the door of a digital safe.

Right. Security. Sebastian sometimes forgot that he was one of the rare few that knew about Blaine's 'hobby'. Even Quinn was unaware, and though she seldom ventured into the basement (Blaine's called it his Man Cave), he couldn't risk her finding out. Hence, the heavily disguised safe was so well hidden.

After keying in the pass code, the safe door swung open. Blaine reached in, extracting a sealed manila envelope and a canvas drawstring bag. He laid the bag on the desk behind the partition and wordlessly handed the envelope to Sebastian.

The taller man opened the seal, carefully pulling out the documents in it. His eyes scanned through them, widening and looking up to meet a pair of honey ones.

"Blai-"

"I've had these done for a while now. I figured you'd need them someday." Blaine interrupted. "Turns out I was right. When I got your phone call, all I needed to do was fabricate the bills."

"I'm… I'm speechless. They're perfect." Sebastian mumbled quietly as he shuffled through the five passports in his hands. "Thank you."

Sandwiched within each passport was a matching Driver's license and ID, as long as a small stack of electrical bills, bank statements and tax invoices to those that applied.

Also wedged between the pages of the final passport was a piece of card with "MAN CARD" handwritten on it in a Blue felt marker.

Sebastian couldn't help it; he cracked up laughing. Blaine, who had been fighting to keep a straight face from the moment he had handed the envelope over, soon joined in.

"Well thank you so much. I honestly owe you my life."

"I know."

"But 'man card". Are you fucking serious? I thought we got over this eons ago!"

"Nope." Blaine replied, popping the 'p'. "I said I'd never let you live that down and here's me keeping to that promise."

Sebastian groaned and threw himself down in a bright green beanbag. It had been one incident in college. One. Trust Blaine to give him crap about it for the rest of his life.

"Told you beanbags are awesome. And that green really suits you. It brings out your eyes." Blaine teased.

"'uck you." came the muffled reply from where Sebastian had his face buried into the smooth cotton.

Blaine chuckled. "Well, now that's sorted… you up for a game of Mario Kart?"

The tall brunette jumped out of the beanbag with such speed and dexterity that all the singer saw was a blur of brown and blue.

"Was that even a question?" He exaggeratedly shrugged his brown leather jacket back onto his shoulders from where it had slipped askew from his lying on the beanbag. Sticking his chin up and crossing his arms across his chess, he announced in a booming voice "Let's do this thing!"

* * *

><p>Quinn walked into the basement an hour later to find the two men in a heated game of Mario Kart. Their thirtieth round, from the looks of things. She laid a plate of warm muffins and cookies on the coffee table and left, rolling her eyes in exasperation.<p>

She stopped by the lounge to give Summer a quick cuddle before heading up the stairs to the study. She scrolled through her contacts on her cell phone before finding the right one. Punching the number into the landline, she waited for several rings until a familiar voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Artie? Is that you?"

"Speaking. Who… um.. who is this?"

"It's Quinn? You know, the cousin who is also your blood relative and has the power to embarrass you with only about a million childhood stories…"

"Quinn! Gosh! It's been forever! How are you? Last time I saw you was on a cinema screen a few weeks ago. You looked gorgeous, by the way."

"Thank you, sweetie. You're too kind."

"No, really though. Chick flicks ain't usually my thing but Brittany was so excited I couldn't say no. It wasn't half bad."

"Well that's great consolation." She replied sarcastically, though she knew he could hear the smile in her voice. "How is she?"

"She's good! Her dance school should open sometime within the next three months. She's been super busy but very excited."

"That's lovely! I can't wait to see it. If I can find the time, I might even join a class or two, if she'll have me."

"You would? Wow. That'd be amazing! Celebrity endorsement. Booyah."

"Of course! She's the best dancer I know."

"She really is something, isn't she." Artie said fondly. "So… to what do I owe the pleasure of this chat with a Hollywood celeb? I don't recall winning some radio competition to win a phone call with the one and only Quinn Fabray."

"Can't a cousin call to say 'Hi"?" Quinn teased. "But actually, I do need some help."

"Oh?"

"It's a favour for a close friend. You're the best hacker I know and she really needs this. It's top secret, potentially dangerous, and one hundred percent illegal. Are you in?"

"Gurl… Danger is my middle name. I laugh in the face of danger." He said in his best 'ghetto' voice.

Quinn scoffed at the clichéd saying.

"But really, Quinn. What do I have to do?"

"Good question, Artemis." She smiled at the noise of protest from the other line – she knew how much he disliked being called by his full first name. "Well, firstly you'll need to locate some of our contacts for back up, just in case. Then I need you to hack into the CIA database and-"

"W-wait. CIA? What's going on? We're dealing with the big boys here!"

"Well, basically this friend's… acquaintance is in trouble and said friend is, with your help, going to pose as an agent to get information to keep said acquaintance safe."

"Wowza. Must be some mighty special 'acquaintance' to go through that much trouble to save. Your friend would pretty much be jeopardizing her life here."

"She's aware. And she's gonna do it anyway." Quinn paused. "You know what the biggest shock is?"

"What?"

"This friend of mine happens to be Santana Lopez."

* * *

><p>Artie literally dropped the phone. He'd met Santana before on several occasions; it was inevitable, really - She and Quinn had been joined at the hip. But from what he knew of her, she was the most selfish, bitchy person he ever known. And that said a lot, seeing as his family was involved in the Mafia. Heck, his family WAS the Mafia. The words he had just heard from Quinn, stating that Santana Lopez was risking her (pretty damn fine) ass for someone other than herself, were ones he never thought he'd ever hear in his technology-infused life.<p>

Well damn.

"Artie?"

"I'm in."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I love feedback, constructive criticism is always welcome (: Thanks for reading!_


	8. Chapter 6

**_Author's Note: Hi everyone(: Thanks again for the reviews!_**

**_If you wish, play this link at the asterisk* : http:/www[dot]youtube[dot]com/watch?v=rhN7SG-H-3k_**

* * *

><p>Thick as Thieves<p>

Chapter 6 – The Foe

**_I've gotten in touch with Artie, and he's agreed to try his best to get you in. I've also requested he locate some of our people, just in case anything goes wrong and you need back up. I'll keep you posted with any updates. Sorry again about what happened earlier. Pop by again soon if you can? xQuinn_**

Santana typed in a quick reply of thanks then tossed her phone aside on the bed and threw herself back to be engulfed by the welcoming comfort provided by the bed. There was nothing she could do now but wait and hope for the best.

This was it. She had no doubt that Artie would get the job done. She was putting her life on the line for Sebastian. But she had no regrets, because she liked to believe that had the situation been reversed, he would do exactly the same for her.

* * *

><p>Late morning sunshine streamed in through the large bay windows. Sebastian gazed out at the gently swaying branches of the Frangipani tree in the back yard. Frangipani's were Santana's favourite. She had worn one behind her ear for their entire time spent in the Bahamas, the white, pink and yellow flowers contrasting beautifully with her dark hair. Well, she had until the vacation had turned sour.<p>

His mood considerably dampened by this revelation, Sebastian set down the newspaper he had been holding open in front of him for the past half hour (He hadn't read anything anyway) and retreated back into the guest room that was temporarily his. He pulled out the manila envelope containing the five passports from the bottom of his suitcase and laid his lifelines out on the bed side by side. He knelt down at the foot of the bed and folded his arms atop the mattress. Resting his head on one arm, he ran this tip of his finger over the textured PVC surfaces of each document.

Sebastian closed his eyes and sighed deeply. It had only been three days and he already missed his partner more than he could bear. Sure, they had gone much longer stretches without seeing each other, but that was before he had realized just how in love with her he was. And possibly, it was made all that much more miserable knowing that he could never see her again.

You always want what you can't have.

After he had pulled himself together, he considered the options he had before him. After quite some speculation, he had decided on his next step. Setting the passport and the corresponding documents he would need aside, he gathered up the rest, replaced them in their envelope and slipped the parcel into the hidden lining of his hand-carry suitcase.

A few clicks on the computer later, Sebastian had booked himself ticket for a flight out of San Francisco that very afternoon. The sooner he left Blaine and Quinn the better – he didn't want to impose and wished to keep the happy couple out of harm's way. If the psycho chasing after him was unstable enough to have someone murdered just for messing with his business, who was to say he wouldn't harm anyone and everyone in his attempt hunt Sebastian down? He could never be able to live with himself if his best friend and said best friend's soul mate were hurt because of him. It was blood he simply could not have on his hands.

Just as he has finished packing up all his belongings and reinstating the room to its former pristine state, he heard the doorbell sound, followed by the happy exclamations of Quinn, Blaine and another female voice that was familiar, but he could not seem to place.

He set his check-in baggage by the room door and his suitcase leaning against it. Cautiously, he peeked out of the room and down the stairs into the sun-drenched foyer to see Blaine being smothered in a warm embrace. The girl pulled away from Blaine and Sebastian finally saw her face. Recognition brought about a flood of memories from a part of his life that he had almost forgotten after all the drama that had ensued in the short span of a few miserable days. The pleasant memories warmed him and without realizing it, his legs had carried him down to the foot of the steps.

The third person in the house had creamy, lightly tanned skin, a petite frame and medium brown hair that fell around her shoulders in a soft curtain. She looked up through long lashes and when her deep brown eyes met a pair of beautiful fern green ones, pink tainted her cheeks and she looked away briefly before turning back with a smile that could power a whole city on Christmas Eve.

"Rachel."

"Sebastian."

With a few quick strides, she crossed the space between them and flung her short arms around Sebastian's neck.

"Ooof." Sebastian grunted as she caught him by surprise. "For someone so tiny, you are surprisingly strong when you want to be." He laughed.

"Oh shut up. I'm not that little."

"Um… yes you are. You Andersons are a family of hobbits."

"Hey!" Blaine and Rachel cried out simultaneously in defiance.

Sebastian and Quinn both laughed at the nearly identical scowls on the siblings' faces. They were so alike sometimes.

"My Kristen Chenoweth-esque stature happened to play a major part in landing me what is now one of the biggest broadway roles of all time, thank you very much." Rachel stated matter-of-factly "And of course, we have my flawless vocals and perfectionist acting skills which were the biggest factor. I simply scared everyone else in the audition room away because the moment they heard me sing, they knew there wasn't even a point in trying."

Blaine, Quinn and Sebastian listened to Rachel's obnoxious musings with bemused expressions. It had been ages since Sebastian had last seen the Tony-Award winning baby sister of this best friend in person. Though of course, he had felt himself filled with pride whenever he watched her appear on television at award ceremonies, commercials and various programs. At times, he felt like Rachel was the little sister he never had.

Times when she wasn't rattling on about her many fascinating talents at a rate of about a thousand words per second.

"Anyway, just imagine how different things would have been if I had never met Quinn on the set of _Dream Catcher_! I wouldn't have been able to introduce you and you guys wouldn't have… no, actually, You two are soul mates so you would have found each other eventually, but I just made sure you found each other sooner and helped prevent unsuccessful relationships for both of you, which also happened to ensure that no one had to have their hearts unnecessarily broken by false hope and lose trust so now, you can be happy and love each other forever and ever until you die! So I was like your beacon of light, guiding you both down the path of fewer mishaps. See, Blaine? I told you you'd thank me one day." Having churned out all those words in less than a minute, Rachel finally paused for a breath, looking very pleased with herself.

She was met with three dumbfounded faces.

"Um, okay! Rach, How abou-"

"How did I know? Oh you see, I had known Quinn's work for a while then, of course. She's so heartbreakingly gorgeous and so, so talented that I was so excited to finally get to meet her. Then we became friends and all I could think was "Oh my god. She is PERFECT for Blaine!" So I very cleverly arranged that she meet my brother at the premiere of _Dream Catcher_, in which I played an aspiring young singer repressed from fulfilling her dreams by a stutter alongside all these amazing people including Mr Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Ms Charlize Theron and the one and only Ms Quinn Fabray, by the way, and everything just fell into place from the moment Blaine and Quinn locked eyes. Isn't that just such a beautiful story?" And with that, Rachel actually began tearing up.

What a drama queen. A few seconds and a handful of tissues later, she set her tea cup down on the wooden table, launching into yet another story that made everyone groan internally.

* * *

><p>He picked his bourbon glass up from the glossy glass surface of the coffee table and paced around the room, looking at nothing in particular. Tension was buzzing in the air, an almost tangible feel detected by the occupants of the impersonal, professional furnished space.<p>

When Graham Sexton turned back to face the two men seated on the black sofa set, the temperature into the room seemed to drop a few degrees. While one of them met the icy blue stare with an air of defiance, the other cowered slightly back into the black leather.

The first man, tall and lean with black hair shot trough with silver, broke the eerie silence.

"We've done what you asked. We request that you hand us what you owe and this matter gets put at rest-"

"Done what I asked?" Sexton interrupted, so silently that the words sounded a thousand times more deadly. The calm before a storm. "Done what I asked." He repeated.

"Yes. Mr. Sexton, you hired our special services to have a man by the name of Scott Richard Henley assassinated. That job was completed and it's only right that you-"

The second man, who had spent the better part of his time in the executive office hoping that the couch would swallow him, literally yelped and whimpered when a crystal glass shattered to pieces against the wall just right of his head.

"Don't you fucking tell me your job is done!" Sexton bellowed, his face turning a rather nasty shade of red as a vein throbbed in his temple. "Your man, that bloody son of a bitch, who is meant to be a 'trained professional killer', told on me! They have names now, god damn it. The cops are on my trail, I'm under house arrest and you DARE to tell me to pay up? Well fuck you. I'm not fucking paying you for fucking everything up."

He took a deep breath, lowering his voice before continuing.

"The bastard who destroyed this company, which has been in my family for generations, by the way, is still out there while an innocent man lies dead in his place. I will not stand for this. I don't know what his name is since he was definitely an imposter, but I'm expecting you to track him down. Use the surveillance cameras of fingerprints or whatever shit it is you guys need. I want that son of a bitch obliterated. You WILL fix this." He said with an air of finality.

The first man looked as though he was about to protest, but his rearranged his sharp features into a diplomatic mask.

"Of course. We apologize for our man releasing that information – we have no idea what had gotten into him. But rest assured, that has been taken care of." He cast a glance at his partner, who nodded nervously in response. "As for the imposter – we're on it."

"You had better be. I expect regular updates."

"We will keep you posted, Mr. Sexton. And I assure you we've got a new man for the job who we can promise will not make the same mistake as his colleague."

Sexton seated himself back behind his desk and nodded towards the door. When it clicked shut, he shut his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

He admitted that he regretted doing what he had. It was just that when he saw his life's work (and his ancestors' before him) come crashing down in mere a matter of days, he had lost it. Graham Sexton had gone ballistic and in a state of recklessness, had foolishly arranged for the boy who had convinced him to agree to that contract against his better judgment to be destroyed.

It had only occurred to him once the blind rage had passed that the severity of what he'd done hit him. He had desperately tried to cancel what he'd arranged, but he was under too heavy watch from the business sector for what had happened to his company to contact the people he had just hired. The phone was ringing off the hook with complaints from furious stock brokers and sponsors, and he had countless press conferences and stock meetings to attend. It seemed like there was never a moment when the there weren't cameras or recorders trained on him.

By the time he'd found it safe enough to get hold of the people, it had been too late. Scott had been killed that morning.

Guilt. He felt so fucking guilty.

When he saw the body... that guilt was transformed to pure rage. Because the cold, stiff body with the single gun shot wound through his forehead was not the same young man he had met up with. At first, he was furious and thought the assasins had messed up and got the wrong guy, but it finlally occured to him that he had been tricked.

His life was in shambles. He'd lost his company because some imposter who was now running free while the innocent son of an old friend was dead. All because of him, Graham Sexton.

But no. Wait. This wasn't his fault; It was that conman! He was the one that caused all this. The bastard had to die. That was the only way Graham was going to make things right again.

He was brought out of his train of thoughts when the door to his office flew open without so much as a knock before two young women barged into his office like they owned the place.

"Daddy." The twins shrieked in unison "Have you found him yet?"

Graham froze. His precious baby girls couldn't know about what was happening, could they? He never wanted them to know what their father was planning to do.

"Wh-who?"

The blondes tutted in disapproval.

"That man! The one who sang at our birthday! You promised you'd find him, but it's been like, forever and you still haven't!" Ashley cried.

"You promised, Daddy. I want you to find him right now. Call whatever fancy people like CIA or shit to find him. We're throwing a party next weekend and we want him there." Christie sulked.

Graham let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He felt so relieved about their obliviousness towards the situation that he agreed to find this guy the girls had been obsessing about for weeks.

"What's he like?"

".god. Where to begin? He's like, super tall and super muscular and his voice is like, whoa."

"And his dancing? Holy gaga. I was hyperventilating."

"So, so, hot."

"His name was Martin Solomon."

"Find him, Daddy."

"We love you!" they cried, kissing him on either cheek before prancing out of the room in their ridiculously high platform stilettos.

Ah. His daughters. They were the only things that kept him sane. He would find this mystery man just for them, even if he was oceans away or on another planet. His darlings deserved to be happy.

* * *

><p>"Well, it's been absolutely fantastic getting to see you again, Rachel, but unfortunately I have a plane to catch in a few hours." Sebastian announced with genuine sadness. He was going to miss his friends so much. "Blaine, Quinn, thank you so, so much for all you've done for me on such short notice. You are amazing people and I really can't thank you enough."<p>

"What?" Blaine voiced in confusion. Quinn's eyebrows were furrowed and she looked concerned.

"I'd best be on my way. I've had an incredible time but I really can't impose on your hospitality any longer." He shared a knowing look with Blaine, and even through the sadness in his honey eyes, Sebastian knew he understood. "Goodbye."

Quinn opened her mouth to protest that he was not imposing at all, but Blaine quickly cut her off.

"Be safe, Buddy, wherever it is you're heading. Hope to see you again really soon!"

Sebastian knew the greater meaning in Blaine's words. Don't give up, take care; there is hope yet.

"Hey, one more thing - would you mind if I play the piano for a bit first? Then I'll be out of your hair."

"Of course."

* * *

><p>Santana walked into the Anderson-Fabray household for the first time in two years. The place was just as she remembered it – warm and charming as ever. As she set her bags down, the sound of music filled her ears and made her smile.<p>

Then the tune registered within her and she froze. Could it be? She remembered the first time she had heard this tune as vividly as if it were yesterday.

* * *

><p><em>She walked into the deserted ballroom, the slip of paper with a time and place clutched tightly in her hand. The man who had crashed her wedding reception sat before the grand piano in the centre of the room.<em>

"_You. Start talking." The stranger raised his head and she was once again captivated by his unique, beautiful sea green eyes. "You said you had a proposition to make?"_

"_Sebastian."_

"_The singing crab? What the fuck are you on about?"_

_He chuckled. "My name. I'm Sebastian Smythe."_

_Realization clicked into her mind and she almost blushed at her foolishness. "Oh. Sa- Anita. Anita Espinosa."_

_He smirked. "Great to meet you…. Anita."_

_The way he said her alias irked her; it was incredulous, as if he didn't believe her. He was right, of course, but he wasn't supposed to know that._

_Before she could retort, however, he had turned back to the piano and dove right into playing a piece of music. His fingers sailed across the keys, playing a tune so complex and beautiful that even she, Santana Lopez, wanted to cry._

_Santana watched him, mesmerised. She had noticed how attractive he was from the moment she had first laid eyes on him at her wedding reception, but it was only now that she appreciated how… beautiful, he was. She would normally snap at him to get on with whatever it was he had to say, but honestly, she could have watched this stranger play piano for hours._

* * *

><p>Santana approached the living room, each step that brought her closer filling her with infinitesimal amounts of hope. Part of her chided herself for thinking that he could possibly be here, in San Francisco, in the home of two A-list celebrities. What in the world were the chances? But there was always hope, and when it came to Sebastian it was all she could ask for at the moment.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Sebastian was lost in the music. His eyes were closed, feeling his way across the ebony and ivory rather than seeing. He was so accustomed to the instrument and the song that it was almost second nature to him.<em>

* * *

><p>She paused in the hallway right next to the doors. This was it. If it really was him, she would finally be able to be happy again.<p>

She took a deep breath and stepped into the doorframe.

* * *

><p><em>When the piece finally ended, he stood up and refastened the button of his blazer, turning to face the bride-to-be.<em>

"_Santana. Santana Lopez." She blurted out._

_Sebastian smiled knowingly, but surprisingly did not, at that moment, come across as overly-cocky. "It's an honour, . Walk with me?"_

* * *

><p>Disappointment hit and crushed her like a ton of bricks. The man sitting at the grand piano was shorter, his hair darker and curlier.<p>

Blaine. Not Sebastian, but Blaine creating those gorgeous sounds with the grand instrument before him. Blaine's fingers effortlessly flying over the black and white keys and playing that melody.

Santana was annoyed with herself for getting her hopes up to begin with. How could she even let herself think that her Sebastian would be there? It wasn't as if no one else could play that song. She just missed him so much that everything reminded her of him. That was all.

So she feigned ignorance, hoping that her mind would get the hint that not everything she saw or heard or smelt meant that Sebastian was nearby.

Blaine played the final note and Santana clapped softly. "That was beautiful, Blaine. Did you compose it?"

"Snix!" Blaine beamed, stumbling over the stool in his haste to get to her. "Nah, it's by this amazing dude called Yiruma. That particular piece is my favourite. It's called…"

_River flows in you_

"…River Flows In You. I heard a friend playing it earlier today and it jogged some old memories."

Santana smiled, even though her heart was aching. "It's gorgeous. I love it."

* * *

><p><strong> <em>Earlier that day<em>**

Sebastian's luggage and bags had been loaded into his rental car and he was all set to go. He hugged Blaine and kissed Quinn and Rachel on the cheeks, all of his embraces lasting just a second longer than what was conventionally expected.

After all, for all he knew, it was the last time he would ever see any of them. He willed back the tears he felt forming as he watched the people that were more his family than the people he shared DNA with wave goodbye through his rearview mirror.

The words Blaine had whispered to him during their final embrace rang through his mind, causing him to smile in spite of himself.

"Look out for that Man Card, Captain Awesome."

* * *

><p>It wasn't a long story to tell.<p>

Basically, Sebastian had gotten very, very drunk and had run around the common room at the University in his underwear, yelling "Never fear, Captain Awesome is here!" before collapsing fast asleep in one of the couches. Thankfully, it had been during the holidays and no Deans had been around, or _Captain Awesome_ would have been expelled or at least suspended. One of the Juniors had dialed Blaine, who had been listed as Sebastian's emergency contact, and Blaine skipped a History of Music Lecture to go and get his best friend out of trouble. Again.

It was when the brunette had started vomiting uncontrollably that the musician decided a visit to the hospital would probably be wise.

The biggest issue had been trying to coax a loopy, giggly and rather hysterical Sebastian into some clothes before leaving for the medical centre.

Blaine knew how handsy Sebastian got whenever he was drunk. He literally hit on anything that moved. In this case, that moving object would happen to be Blaine. After prying Sebastian's hand off his ass for the fourth time, Blaine had had enough.

"Okay. That's it, dude." He had snapped rather angrily, though he was still quite amused at Sebastian's dithering, nonsensical state. "I'm confiscating your Man Card."

"Man Card?"

"Yes. Until you learn to sort your shit out and stop being this fucking sex predator."

"But I'm horny." His friend had slurred, looking almost comical in his confusion.

"You're Sebastian Smythe. You're always horny." He'd scoffed in reply. "Now put these pants on and let's get your stomach pumped. I don't want you dying from alcohol poisoning right here."

"If I do, c-can I get my Man Card back?"

"Your-" Blaine said in disbelief, before huffing in defeat "Yes. Once the doctors say you're clear I'll give it back."

"Yaaaaaay," Sebastian cheered. "I'll make it now!"

He watched on in amusement as his nearly-adult friend rummaged through his drawers for a felt tip and square of paper, his brows drawn together in concentration and his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he wrote "man card" in an illegible script. Looking very pleased with himself, he handed the slip of card to him. Now Blaine was getting worried. Maybe Sebastian wasn't just drunk; he also seemed high as a fucking kite. He had just made an actual "man card", for fuck's sake.

"There. Now let's go! To infinity and beyond!"

"Um, Captain Awesome? Your pants?"

"Oh right." He had slurred, hurriedly yanking a pair of jeans on. "Now! I want my Man Card back!"

Sebastian remembered none of this the next day, but Blaine had given him a detailed recount, with the piece of card serving as a great bit of evidence, and sworn to never let his best friend ever live that event down until the day he died.

Blaine now found himself hoping and praying with all of his being that he would be able to mock him with this same memory for a long, long time more.

* * *

><p>Author's note: What did you think? Honestly, I'm not too happy with how this chapter turned out; It just seems a tad erratic and confusing :s I feel it could have been better but I really wanted to get it out for the readers who still stick around for me! Your support is much appreciated (:<p>

I decided to add a bit from the bad guy's POV there too. And if you got really lost at the weird interchanging scenes at the end, no worries. As one reviewer mentioned, for some scenes in this story I'm simply just putting what unfolds in my mind into words, so it's kinda like a movie (I have a vivid imagination. okay). I imagined that whole sequence of when Sebastian and Santana first met being interchanged with scenes from the present, where Santana is approaching the living room and hoping to find Sebastian playing that song like he was in her flash black.

I was hoping it would create the effect whereby you lovely viewers wouldn't know if Santana would enter the room and actually run right into Sebastian, since despite her beliefs, he really does know Blaine and Quinn and he really was in that house. I attempted to create that time lapse thing haha. She missed him by a few hours and ended up hearing Blaine play instead.

Did that clear things up, or just confuse you more? Hehe.

Reviews are loved!


	9. Chapter 7

_**Author's note:** Thanks again for all the kind reviews (: There's nothing much to say for now so without furter ado, enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

><p><strong>Thick as Thieves<strong>

Chapter 7 – The Room Mate

_They walked in companionable silence to the garden which thankfully, given the hour, was deserted. The landscaped array of shrubs and flowers were illuminated by the soft glow of a lone lamp post as they bathed in the silver light of the full moon. The calming sounds of trickling water emanated from a porcelain fountain that stood smack in the middle of the perfectly-round garden. The bull's eye of a target._

_He seated himself on a park bench, laying a hand on the space beside him as he looked at her expectantly._

"_I'd rather stand, thank you very much." She said curtly, sounding far from grateful. "This shouldn't take long, anyway."_

_Sebastian held up his hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you say."_

"_Get on with it, Twink. You've wasted enough of my time already."_

"_I know who you are." He said, simply. His eyes bore into hers so intently that she felt compelled to look away. However, she refused to show any trace of weakness, thus meeting the gaze with equal levels of intensity._

"_What do you mean? How could you possibly know anything about me? We've only just met, for fuck's sake!"_

_He shook his head infinitesimally. "What I meant, was that I know who you are. You're a liar. A thief. A seductress by nature who uses those… talents, to get what she wants. I'm guessing wealth, riches."_

_Santana opened her mouth to deny all the accusation leaving his mouth, but saw the knowing resolve in his eyes and knew that there was no point arguing. He knew._

"_How- How did you know? Are you like a cop or something?" she demanded._

_At this, the beautiful stranger chuckled. "No. No I'm not."_

"_Then who the hell are you? I need answers, Meerkat Face. You'd better speak up or I'm outta here." She was getting worried. Had she really lost her touch? Left a trace? Maybe her work was becoming too obvious and she was getting careless.; slipping up._

_The concern only flashed across her features for a second, but Sebastian didn't miss it._

"_Relax, Santana. You're actually one of the more convincing Con Brides I've come across. If I didn't know any better, I'd actually believe all that bullshit about "true love knowing no limits" you've been feeding to the press." He rolled his eyes._

"_You still haven't answered my question. What makes you think you ''know better" that I'm what you say I am?"_

_The corners of his mouth pulled up into smirk, a smile that, unbeknownst to her at the time, she would grow very, very accustomed to._

"_You know what they say," he purred "It takes one to know one."_

* * *

><p>Her eyelids flew open. She lay in the unfamiliar bed, unmoving as she processed the her dream. Hearing Blaine play <em>River Flows In You<em> those few nights ago must have triggered some very vivid memories of her first meeting with Sebastian. The dream had been so real, exactly how the night had unfolded that she could almost feel the warmth of his skin when their hands accidentally brushed while trying to sneak undetected into the garden. On second thoughts, maybe it hadn't been accidental at all, but rather, fully intentional. That sneaky bastard.

Santana was frustrated that she had woken up. Since first hearing that melody again for the first time in ages, she had dreamt this very same dream every night, though it always ended right there. Nothing more, nothing less.

She pushed herself into an upright seating position and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. She was in the guest room of Blaine and Quinn's house, which was currently tinted in shades of blue-grey by the moonlight streaming in through the ajar window.

Giving up trying to go back to sleep, she slipped her feet into the ugg boots resting at the foot of her bed and pulled a robe over her tank top and sleep shorts. She walked quietly into the bathroom and splashed some water on her face, taking a moment to stare at the stranger looking back at her in the mirror. The girl gazing back had dark eye circles and dull skin, but what alarmed Santana most was the lifelessness of the puffy, bloodshot eyes.

Moving away from the mirror, she silently tip toed down the steps and into the lounge. Summer raised her head, tilting it to the side as she appraised the guest moving around in the dead of the night. Santana gestured for the dog to come over to her before sliding open the backdoor and stepping outside. The dog walking protectively by her side, Santana walked over the plum tree in the backyard. She sat down and leaned her head against the trunk, absent-mindedly running her fingers through the soft fur of the retriever's neck where it had its head rested in her lap.

It was only a while later that she realized the grass around her was littered with dozens of frangipani blossoms. Santana picked one up; spinning the stalk between her fingers and watching the flower's petals form a pinwheel. The air was heavy with the scent of the blossoms.

A chilly breeze blew past and made her shiver. She snuggled closer to Summer and as if reading her mid, the dog scooted closer, pressing its warm body against her side.

Santana smiled sadly. One day, she would have a house and a dog and hopefully, Sebastian right by her side.

* * *

><p>"<em>So let me get this straight – You're suggesting we work together?" She asked incredulously in response to his proposal of a camaraderie.<em>

"_Yupp." He replied nonchalantly, tugging petals off an unfortunate hydrangea from a plant next to the bench where he was seated._

"_As… partners." _

"_Yupp." He repeated, popping the 'p' (and subsequently drawing attention to his annoyingly kissable-looking lips)._

"_Well I think you're looking at the wrong girl. I don't do alliances." But Santana would be lying if she said she wasn't considering his offer, just a little. She'd already been doubting her ability to carry on with her job solo. She feared being caught eventually._

"_Neither do I. But honestly? You're good, I'm good - I think this might work."_

_She began to protest, but he cut her off._

"_Just think about it. As a pair, we could tackle bigger targets, have each other's backs. And by bigger, I'm talking huge. Not just pathetic couples, but whole companies, empires. Our earnings would double, triple even."_

"_How significant are we talking here?"_

_With another signature smirk, Sebastian launched into some of his plans for future assignments. Plans only possible if there were two people involved, preferably an attractive heterosexual couple, from what he had planned. These plans were intricate, detailed – Back up plans, covers, escapes, alibis… he had it all sorted. If the dedication to the lifestyle wasn't enough to convince Santana, the way her delivered them did. There was a sparkle in his eyes as he explained his plans- a devious, excited glint that showed her that he did what he did for the thrill as much as for the money. This was something Santana could relate to. It formed a weird sort of bond, a connection she felt with him and while she wouldn't quite call it trust, it was certainly an understanding._

"… _and let's face it. You and me, baby? Smoking chemistry."_

_He had gotten really, really close. Much too close. She could feel the heat radiating of his body, his scent overpowering. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to pull away._

_When he reached out to brush a few odd strands of hair from her forehead, the innocent touch sent jolts running through her body._

_He must have felt it too, because his lips crushed hers hungrily just as she reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair and pull his face down to hers. The kiss was pure, raw passion and lust, both parties fighting for dominance before reaching a compromise. She ran her tongue along his lower lip, drawing it between her teeth while his explored every crevice of her mouth. The both moaned at the same time, which caused them to pull away with a low chuckle. They rested their foreheads together, catching their breaths._

"_I- I've got to go for a moment. I'll be right back. I promise"_

_Santana nodded, eyes wide and confused. With a final peck on the lips, she watched his figure retreat into the woods surrounding the garden._

_She waited. And waited. He didn't come back._

* * *

><p>Santana startled awake with a gasp, scrambling to hold herself upright. She looked around in confusion to get her bearings. Finally, things began to make sense again to her. She was sitting in Blaine and Quinn's garden, the plum tree she was seated beneath providing some shade from the bright morning sun. Summer the golden retriever was licking her face in a morning greeting and Santana vaguely recalled falling asleep cuddling the warm, furry, living pillow.<p>

That dream though… that was not how things had gone at all. After that first kiss, Sebastian had left for literally under a minute to fetch two glasses and a bottle of wine before guiding the two of them to his executive suite at the hotel. (Ironically, the same hotel that's ballroom she was to be wed in.)

Which had explained the mystery of Santa the disappearing bride; and how she had spent her wedding night with someone quite the opposite of her old, pudgy and balding fiancée.

Santana stood up, stretching out her sore back from the position she had fallen asleep in against the tree and brushing fallen leaves of her robe. She stifled a yawn as she walked into the kitchen and set about making a large, strong pot of coffee.

* * *

><p>Heathrow Airport. One of the busiest in the world. And yet, though surrounded by a massive sea of people, Sebastian had never felt more alone.<p>

He wrapped his coat tighter around his body and pulled his beanie lower to cover his ears. Fuck, it was freezing. He stood in the sheltered cab stand with his luggage by his side, rain pattering down noisily on the plastic roof above him as he tried to hail a cab.

What felt like hours later, he was finally out of the cold and in the sheltered warmth of the London cab. The jovial, silver-haired driver tried to start up conversations while in a very strong English accent, but Sebastian snapped perhaps a tad bit too harshly that he didn't feel like talking and the old man quickly got the hint, understanding that these American tourists tending to be grouchy from the long plane ride. The four hour drive out to Sebastian's destination was quiet apart from the swish of the windscreen wipers and the muffled drum of raindrops hitting the car.

Sebastian stared out the window, watching the scenery gradually change from urban, suburban, to finally rural. Though he was exhausted, his mind was full and he was unable to fall asleep.

When they finally pulled up to the heavy, intricately patterned wrought iron gates, It was dark out. Sebastian straightened up in his seat, snapping out of his less-than-pleasant thoughts. This was it.

Sansbury Hall.

The ivy covered brick building stood tall and imposing, with many turrets and bunkers. The campus was ancient, dating back to the 1700's. It's grandeur magnificent, yet simultaneously daunting.

A tall, slender, severe-looking woman with dark hair shot through with silver stood in front of the grand double doors, her grey eyes taking in everything from the top of her round glasses. Everything about her screamed discipline. This was someone you would not want to mess with. Next to her was a boy who was unmistakably another student. He had dark brown hair and thick eyebrows, which were currently drawn together from the cold. A plaid green scarf was wrapped around his neck and his nose was vaguely pink. He rubbed his gloved hands together and jumped from foot to foot as if trying to keep warm. The lady was occasionally casting him disapproving glances, her hands tucked deep into the pockets of her grey trench coat.

Sebastian stepped out of the bad, immediately getting hit by a gust of icy wind. He fought back a shiver and helped the cab driver unload his stuff from the car. After handing him a rather thick wad of bills ("No, really, keep the change" he had said with a strained smile), he dragged his belongings against the bitter cold and through the heavy wooden doors that the lady and the boy had vanished into.

The hall was large and warm, with vintage oak floor boards lined with a huge, Persian rug in the middle of the room. On top of the rug was a large, comfortable-looking sofa set and a square, mahogany coffee table. A fireplace roared vibrantly in the corner, basting the room in warm orange glow to match the heat it was providing. In the far end of the room was a large counter which must have functioned as a desk, for the wall behind it was layered with shelves and drawers, undoubtedly full of files and administrative documents. There was currently nobody seated behind it.

"Mr. Larson?"

It took Sebastian a few seconds to realize that it was him the lady was addressing. This wasn't good – he usually took no time at all to grow accustomed to his many aliases. Then again, he had always had Santana to help him practice for the past four years.

"Yes, that would be me." He said with as much charm as he could muster in his current exhausted state, slipping into a flawless British accent. "But Toby would suffice."

"Well, good evening, Mr. Larson. We've been expecting you on short notice since receiving your father's email two days ago. I am the headmistress, Professor Burton and this," she gestured to the boy next to her with a look of exasperation "is Thomas Maclean."

"Hello. How're you doing?" Thomas lurched forward with a borderline maniacal grin and grabbed Sebastian's hand in a firm handshake. "Just call me Tom."

Surprised and slightly unsure, Sebastian shook the hand warily back.

Professor Burton watched the exchange with a look of mild distaste. "Yes, Mr. Maclean. How very nice of you, but I think Mr. Larson here would like to be shown to his dorm for the night. Everything else can be sorted out tomorrow morning."

"Right! Sorry, mate. I'll show you to your room."

Sebastian smiled at the sheepish expression on the boy's face as he bustled around picking up Sebastian's bags.

"And Toby?"

"Yes, Professor?"

The corners of Professor Burton's severe mouth pulled up in the smallest hint of a smile, which somehow managed to light up her face and make her look ten years younger.

"Welcome to Sansbury Hall."

It was late and dark, but from what Sebastian could see of the old campus as they walked to his dorm, the architecture was simply breathtaking. Having studied architecture himself for a good few years, he took in the old, sturdy structure and the vintage décor with an appreciative eye. Most of the furniture as well as the buildings themselves had survived the test of time.

Tom was giving Sebastian a run-through of life at Sansbury; everything from class schedules and sports to music and food. There was so much to process that Sebastian didn't register much of what he said, but nodded and threw in the odd comment.

He wasn't sure he liked Tom. He seemed to obnoxious and enthusiastic, but the moment he was too brain-dead to actually sustain a semi-decent conversation, let alone care.

As they entered the main dorm building, Tom glanced over at Sebastian and caught him in the middle of a huge yawn. He looked apologetic.

"Sorry, mate. I'm a bit much to handle at times. Golly, I have no filter system at all. You must be exhausted from the journey. Wow. How do you even survive that long a plane ride? You must be bored out of your mind by the end of it! I don't think I'd last a flight to Ireland, let alone America. Bloody hell! But anyway, what were we talking about? Oh right. How I talk too much. Okay, I'll shut up now." He gestured zipping up his lips, twisting a key in an imaginary lock before tossing the key over his shoulder.

Sebastian didn't have a mirror, but he knew his features were arranged in an expression of pure bemusement.

"It's alright! Honestly. I'm just tired."

Keeping up the act of having his lips sealed shut, Tom simply nodded.

They walked through the silent halls, passing door after identical door before stopping at one marked 3K. Sebastian thought he saw a flash of annoyance in Tom's eyes at the brass digits, but brushed it off as fatigue making his mind play tricks on him.

Pretending to rip open the imaginary zip, Thomas gestured grandly to the door and announced: "Well, this is it- your dorm. Get settled in… this is going to be your home for god knows how long now. Sansbury really is great. I guarantee you'll have a bloody fantastic time while you're here."

"I'm taking your word for it, Tom."

"Hah. I'm never wrong! Nah, just kidding. Your room mate should give you a tour of the school tomorrow, but you can always find me in 4Q if you need help. Lucky for you it's the weekend, that should give you some time to get your bearings. Otherwise, have a pleasant evening, Toby."

Sebastian fought back a snigger at the room number. God, he was such a teenager sometimes. He thanked Tom profusely before rapping his knuckles against the door.

"It's unlocked!" Came a muffled voice.

Sebastian turned the doorknob and stepped into the doorway. The dorm was decent-sized and cozy, with a comfortable-looking bed on either side and two study desks against the far wall. At the foot of each bed was a wardrobe, which Sebastian supposed was for clothes and books. There was a door leading off to an attached bathroom.

He stepped into the room, his feet sinking into the plush carpet.

A teenager with dark brown hair lay in a bed, headphones on while absent-mindedly bouncing a soccer ball off the wardrobe at the foot of his bed.

He sat upright and pulled his headphones around his neck when Sebastian walked in.

"Hey, you must be Toby!" He said with a vibrant smile, his deep blue eyes twinkling. "I'm Benji. Benji Westmore."

The boyish grin was infectious and Sebastian felt himself smiling back. "Toby Larson. Great to meet you."

"Same here. So… I guess we're roommates?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then welcome to 3K!" Benji exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air and hitting his wrist hard against the reading lamp that was balanced precariously over the mattress. "Ow fuck. Bloody hell that hurts."

The hit toppled the lamp over, and it landed squarely in Benji's lap, causing the soccer ball that was previously there to roll off and hit a stack of precariously stacked textbooks, which fell over with a series of loud thuds. Annoyed shouts resonated from the neighbouring rooms.

The pair ended up laughing so hard they doubled over, breaking the awkwardness silence.

"I love what you've done with the place, by the way." Sebastian teased. He liked Benji. He seemed like a nice guy.

"Oh shut up, you tosser."

Then the instruments set up in the corner of the room caught Sebastian's eye. Benji noticed his new room mate staring and the question left his lips before he could stop himself.

"Do you play?"

Sebastian nodded.

"Keyboard of guitar?"

"Both."

"Holy shitballs, this is amazing! Dude, we should have jam sessions. My last roomie was a total prat who always complained about me playing." He rolled his blue eyes.

"Sounds like a real arse."

"Yeah. He kinda was. So glad he changed rooms."

"What was his name? I'll keep an eye out for him."

"Oh, you probably don't know him. I don't think you'd know anyone, seeing as you just got here, but his name's Thomas Maclean."

* * *

><p>"Yello?"<p>

_"Oi, Jeff-"_

"This is Nick, man."

_"Sorry, Nic-"_

"Haha, just messing with ya, It's Jeff."

_"Oh for fuck's sake. I don't care."_

"Woah, language, buddy. Who is this?"

_"It's me, Artie."_

"Oh hey! How are ya man?"

_"I'm good. Hey listen up, are you guys still is in California?"_

"Oh hell naw, we're in Nevada. Fabulous Las Vegas, dude!"

_"Fantastic. I've got a job for you guys…"_

* * *

><p>Santana sprang to answer the phone when it rang, hoping that she got to it before it woke Blaine and Quinn.<p>

"Hello? Anderson residence."

_"Hey, Santana? Is that you?"_

"Artie?"

_"Yeah."_

"Oh gosh! How are you, Little Bee?"

_"Aw… Really, Snix? Still calling me Bee?"_

She giggled quietly. "Yupp. Can't stop, won't stop."

_"Ugh." Artie groaned. "Anyway, I've got news for you."_

Santana turned dead serious. "Did you… did you get me in?"

_"Well… yes."_

"That's bloody amazing! Thank you so, so much Artie. I owe you big time."

_"Woah woah. Calm yo tits. There's a catch." _She froze_. "The CIA system was one of the toughest I've ever had to break into. I found a glitch, a fissure of sorts in one branch of their infrastructure and attacked that weakness until I finally got in. I've put in a fake file in the database for you; You are an agent who has worked with the force for six years now and have recently been transferred to this particular branch since a past assignment was compromised and your identity was exposed. You have recently undergone facial reconstruction surgery and are now working under a new name in a new state. Comprende?"_

"I couldn't have asked for more. It's perfect. Honestly." Her voice bubbled with emotion. Relief? Excitement? Hope? Even she didn't know. "But may I ask one thing?"

_"Shoot."_

"Which State have I been posted to?"

_"Viva Las Vegas, baby."_

* * *

><p><em><strong> Author's note:<strong> So... what did ya think?_

_And just pointing out:. the timing gets a little weird in the next few chapters so just watch out for these notes and feel free to ask me if you have any queries. I don't bite... hard (;_


	10. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Hey Y'all (:

The next installment is up! For those of you interested, I pictured Andrew Garfield as Thomas Maclean and Logan Lerman as Benji Westmore.

But anyway, here you go!

* * *

><p><strong>Thick as Thieves<strong>

Chapter Eight - The Principal

"… so just watch out for your ass and your partner's and you should be fine."

Santana nodded silently. She trudged through the claustrophobic, artificially-lit halls of the headquarters beside the man giving her a quick briefing as he led her to the Head of Faculty's office.

The Asian gave her a sideways glance, misinterpreting her nostalgic expression for one of anxiety.

"Hey, don't worry too much about it, Carla. Puck may seem real tough and scary, but he's actually really cool." Mike reached for the door and rapped at it sharply with his knuckles.

Puck? It couldn't be…

"Come in." barked a voice from inside.

Mike pushed the door open, and Santana forced herself to hold in a gasp.

The man seated behind the desk was tall and olive-skinned, with hazel eyes and broad shoulders. The way his broad chest and muscles filled in his suit served as a fair warning that this man was not to be defied. Everything about him seemed stern and tough, like an army officer or an athletic coach of sorts. His buzz cut really didn't help soften the look in the slightest. But Santana knew how that hair had once been styled in a single strip down his head, in a Mohawk so distinctive that it had become known as the "Puckerman".

"Good evening, sir. This here's Carla Rodriguez. She's just transferred from the NJPD." Mike announced.

"Ah, Carla. Yes. We've been expecting you." Puck said, extending a muscled arm for a handshake.

"Pleased to meet you, Sir."

As Mike stepped out of the office, a strange look crossed Puck's face. He frowned at her, not in hostility but rather, confusion. ""Do I- Do I know you from somewhere?" he inquired.

"No" she said, almost too quickly. She cleared her throat nervously. "Well, I've never seen you before and I just got here from New Jersey so…"

"Right, right. Of course. Sorry. You just look remarkably like someone that I used to know from high school." A genuine smile lit up face. "I'm Noah, but you can call me Puck. Everyone does."

"Puck?"

"Noah Puckerman."

"Oh. Right. Haha." She laughed uneasily.

"So, I understand you were uprooted for some… issues, at your old branch."

Santana swallowed back the lump in her throat. "Um… yeah."

"I won't make you talk about it, but seeing as we're going to be partners on this case, I want you to know that you can trust me to try my best to ensure nothing of the nature of what happened in that last assignment is going to happen again, okay?"

She glanced up, the eyes she met kind and understanding, a gentle smile on the former jock's face.

She felt so guilty, but she smiled in spite of herself.

"Sure thing, Puck."

"Good. Well. So we're tracking some Property Bigshot accused of masterminding a murder. Fun stuff, huh?" He sat back in his chair, smirking slightly.

Not trusting herself to speak just yet, Santana nodded mutely.

"Hmm. Well you only start work on Monday, so I'd suggest you go out there and enjoy your first few nights here in Vegas. I'd show you around myself, but I've got all these reports to fill out by tomorrow. The girls Kayleigh and Sarah are lovely though, I'm sure they wouldn't mind giving you a tour of the city-"

"It's fine! Don't worry about me, Puck. I've got it covered. But thanks." Santana cut in.

He looked mildly taken aback, but nodded nonetheless. "Okay then. You are a highly trained agent after all. But do take care. I'll see you back here first thing Monday?"

"Of course, Puck." She stood, holding her hand out for a shake.

"Have a good weekend." He grasped her hand firmly, his large, strong hand nearly engulfing hers. She turned to leave and had a hand around the doorknob when he called out again. "Oh, and Carla?"

He smirked, though the expression just seemed wrong when she was so used to the mischievous sparkle belonging in green eyes, not hazel.

"Welcome to fabulous Las Vegas."

Well crap. Things had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Several weeks later<strong>_

Sebastian's charisma and impish charm helped him blend seamlessly in with the rest of the students and within a few days of being there, it seemed as through he had been attending Sansbury hall as long as everyone else had. He was acing his classes and the teachers adored him. He joined the soccer team alongside Benji, who apparently was a very talented goalkeeper.

Sebastian and Benji had gotten along right from that very first day. Much to the annoyance of Tom Maclean, who was hoping Sebastian would join his group of friends and bring with him his increasingly large hoard of female admirers. As far as Sebastian was concerned, the people Tom hung around with were a bunch of utter douchebags and he and Benji enjoyed making fun of them as often as an opportunity presented itself, which seeing as the subject weren't the brightest bulbs in the shed, was fairly frequent.

Hanging around Benji helped numb the sense of dread that threatened to overwhelm him at times, but for now, he was fairly safe. Playing the role of a preppy high school student in a private school out in the English countryside wasn't somewhere that he was likely to be found.

Benji's boyish innocence and love for music reminded Sebastian a lot of Blaine, and the jam sessions they had brought back fond memories of his high school life and musical aspirations he had shared with his best friend in the Anderson basement over countless mugs of hot chocolate.

In fact, even here in Sansbury, Sebastian found himself experiences brief bouts of déjà vu relating back to those times whenever he was hanging out with Benji. Sometimes it was when they were jamming to an old 90's hit in their dorm, or simply just hanging around in a comfortable silence.

The occupants of 3K were spending the Saturday afternoon just lazing around the room, procrastinating and avoiding having to leave the warm comfort of their respective beds.

"Oi, Toby." Benji suddenly said.

"Benjamin."

"You're taking part in that contest, right? The school talent show?

"Oh. I um… I don't know"

"You fully shoud, mate. You're really good."

"Maybe. Are you?"

"Heeeeell yeah."

Sebastian smiled. "Well, there ya go. I'll vote for you."

"No you won't, you'll be taking part, too!"

"Look, Benji, I don't know." Sebastian had said solemnly, sitting up and running a hand through his messy hair.

Benji whined. "Come on, Toby. You're fucking brilliant. It'd be a shame if you didn't go and showcase that dapper voice of yours."

"I could say the same about you."

"Exactly, mate. Don't you see? It'll be like the sing-off of the century! The chicks will be talking about this for years!" Benji exclaimed, jumping up and bumping his head on a bed post. "Ow."

Sebastian smiled. Maybe he would sing in that stupid competition after all. He'd been feeling increasingly depressed (in spite of Benji constantly cheering him up with his deadpan humour or general clumsiness), and Sebastian had always felt so much better after being able to pour out his emotions in song. And Benji was right about the sing-off; they would be legends. Plus, the aspiring musician had been such a great friend the past few weeks; Sebastian felt the least he could do was to finally get him the girl he'd been pining after for ages.

McKenzie Stuart was a petite girl with jet-black hair and huge doe eyes that Benji had had a crush on since he'd first met her nearly three years ago. From what Sebastian saw, it was pretty darn obvious that she had a thing for Benji too, but the two were too shy or oblivious to do anything about it. Sebastian was getting frustrated with the pair's constant bashful flirting, and constantly fought back the urge to yell "get a room" when he was around them.

For a mixture of these two reasons – a chance of personal expression as well as a favour to a friend– coupled with a pleading, puppy-dog expression from Benji, Sebastian made his decision.

He huffed in mock annoyance. "Fine. I'll do it."

The blue-eyed room mate fist pumped and shouted in exuberance.

"This is fantastic. Booyah. Okay I need a song to sing. What to sing what to sing what to sing. You're going down, Larson. What to sing… I'm gonna smash you. Ahh! I think I know! No, no no no that wouldn't work at all. Damn it." Benji paced around the room, muttering under his breath at full speed as Sebastian watched on in amusement. God, this kid HAD to be related to Blaine.

"What are you singing, Toby?"

Sebastian considered this for a moment. As always, his thoughts flew right back to Santana. This song would be dedicated to her. He was going to make it perfect, express everything he was feeling about her. About them.

"I think," he said "I've got it sorted."

* * *

><p>It had been three frustrating weeks of fruitless searching. All Santana could say she achieved was that she found out about Graham Sexton's many affairs. As much as this was good information for blackmail, it was worthless to her at the moment. She had tracked all his calls with the help of Mike, who was the audiovisual technician in her division and nothing he had done was out of the ordinary. Business calls, bank transactions, nothing suspicious or worthy of a warrant. Without any evidence, Graham Sexton was innocent, which meant that Sebastian would never be truly safe. Her department was going to drop the case any moment, but Puck seemed to have developed a soft spot for her and had helped to push the deadline of the case back, buying her more time. She couldn't have been more grateful.<p>

One Thursday night, Santana was pouring over files, credit card statements and phone records, looking for something; anything that could possibly be a lead to buy her more time. There were only so few more excuses Puck could feed the management before the case was shut down for good.

She gulped down some more coffee only to find the cup empty. With a low grumble, she moved from the desk to get some more, stretching out her stiff back and numb legs. Her heels clicking sharply against the linoleum floors, she heading to the pantry and set a pot of coffee to boil. As she waited, she suppressed a huge yawn and sat back in one of the chair while waiting, folding her arms on the table and resting her head atop them. She hadn't slept in more than thirty hours and was positively exhausted.

Next thing she knew, she was being prodded gently in the arm. Her reflexes kicked in and she immediately karate chopped at the hand resting on her shoulder.

"Ow! Fuck, that hurt, damn it! What was that for?" Puck bellowed, clutching his arm where the heel of her hand had hit.

"Puck? I'm so sorry! It was instinct, I didn't mean it, I swear."

"Ow."

"I'm so sorry!"

Puck looked at her for a moment, taking in her disheveled appearance and bloodshot eyes. He sighed.

"Don't worry about it. I'll live. But Carla, you really, reall need a break. You're working way too hard. I admire your dedication, in fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were out to get this bastard personally." He chuckled, and Santana stiffened. Thankfully, it went unnoticed as he continued "If you carry on this way, you're gonna fall sick and I'm gonna have to take you off the assignment."

Santana had begun to protest, but promptly shut her mouth when she realized he was right. She had worked herself absolutely down to the bone in the past few weeks. She desperately needed break.

Santana sighed. "Well, what do you suggest, sir?"

"I think you should call it a night. You're not even on shift right now! Go grab your coat. My shift ends in…" he checked his watch "ten minutes. Meet me out front in twelve. It's Open Mic night at O'Hagan's tonight and a few of us are going. You've been here nearly a month and still haven't been given the official welcome!"

Santana couldn't hold back a smirk. "Lemme guess – Newbie's gotta get thrashed and sing?"

Puck's impish grin was all the answer she needed, really. "You know it, sister."

* * *

><p>They were speeding down the strip on Puck's Harley twenty minutes later. Clinging on tightly to Puck's chest, Santana raised the visor on her helmet and looked around the bright neon lights in awe.<p>

Home.

Se remembered the flashy lights, the glamour and flamboyance of the city that never sleeps. Holding her grandmother's hand and walking down the streets, soaking in the merciless Nevada sun, sucking on ice blocks purchased from the push cart stalls. She had left Las Vegas for San Francisco just before her sixth birthday, but the lights triggered odd flashes of her past that made her wonder what it would have been like if she had stayed in the busy hustle of the notorious city instead of the quaint elegance of San Francisco.

They sped along, weaving effortlessly through traffic, a warm breeze running through her hair as she subconsciously drew herself closer to Puck's back. She had to admit that she had missed him. Even since high school, the two had always gotten along right from the start. Sure, everyone else saw them as mere fuck buddies, but they were both clear that that was all they wanted out of each other, so apart from the sex, their relationship had been solely platonic.

Puck turned off into one of the many alleys along the strip, pulling up into a motorcycle parking space in front of a pub with a huge sign on the front saying "O'Hagan's". A small neon sign in the corner had "Open Mic Night, Thursdays 9p.m onwards. All are welcome." Tucking their helmets into the glove box, Puck grabbed Santana hand and dragged her through the double French doors.

They were greeted by several familiar faces from the audience, and Santana was glad to finally be spending some social time away from work. She was having a great time chatting and socializing with her new colleagues and after several rounds of shots (courtesy of everyone offering to buy her drinks) Santana was finally starting to loosen up for the first time in weeks.

When the host for the night announced that the stage was free for performers, Santana immediately grabbed hold of Puck and pulled him upstage for a duet.

"Hi everyone. I'm San.. hic- Carla. I'm Carla. And this here's Puck! Everyone give a round of applause for Puck!"

The Bar patrons laughed and clapped sportingly.

The music began and everyone cheered when the familiar tune came on. Taking the stand, Puck stepped forward to start the first verse, Sanata singing slightly drunkenly along in the background.

_If you see a faded sign -at- the side of the road that says  
>15 miles to the...<em>

_Love Shack! Love Shack yea yeah_

_I'm headin' down the Atlanta highway, lookin' for the love getaway  
>Heading for the love getaway, love getaway,<br>I got me a car, it's as big as a whale and we're headin' on down  
>To the Love Shack<br>I got me a Chrysler, it seats about 20  
>So hurry up and bring your jukebox money<em>

Santana literally strutted forward to carry the chorus, everyone catcalling and cheering her on.

_Well the Love Shack is a little old place where we can get together__  
><em>_Love Shack baby, Love Shack bay-bee.__  
><em>_Love Shack, baby Love Shack, Love Shack, baby Love Shack!_

_Sign says.. Woo... stay away fools, 'cause love rules at the Love Shack!__  
><em>_Well it's set way back in the middle of a field,__  
><em>_Just a funky old shack and I gotta get back_

_Glitter on the mattress__  
><em>_Glitter on the highway__  
><em>_Glitter on the front porch__  
><em>_Glitter on the hallway_

_The Love Shack is a little old place where we can get together__  
><em>_Love Shack baby! Love Shack baby!__  
><em>_Love Shack, that's where it's at! Love Shack, that's where it's at!_

Facing each other and singing together, Santana and Puck belted out the rest of the song together.

_Huggin' and a kissin', dancin' and a lovin', wearin' next to nothing__  
><em>_Cause it's hot as an oven__  
><em>_The whole shack shimmies__  
><em>_when everybody's movin' around and around and around!__  
><em>_Everybody's movin', everybody's groovin' baby!__  
><em>_Folks linin' up outside just to get down__  
><em>_Everybody's movin', everybody's groovin' baby__  
><em>_Funky little shack! Funky little shack!_

_Hop in my Chrysler, it's as big as a whale and it's about to set sail!__  
><em>_I got me a car, it seats about 20__  
><em>_So come on and bring your jukebox money._

_Well the Love Shack is a little old place where we can get together__  
><em>_Love Shack baby, Love Shack bay-bee.__  
><em>_Love Shack, baby Love Shack, Love Shack, baby Love Shack,Love Shack,__  
><em>_baby Love Shack!__  
><em>

The whole bar joined in. It was a delightful, spirited energy and Santana felt truly happy for the first time in ages. Two young men, one tall and lanky with cropped blonde hair and the other shorter with brown locks, whooped and hollered loudly. Santana blew them kisses from the stage.

_Bang bang bang on the door baby! Knock a little louder baby!  
>Bang bang bang on the door baby! I can't hear you!<br>Bang bang bang on the door baby! Knock a little louder suga  
>Bang bang bang on the door baby! I can't hear you!<br>Bang bang bang! On the door baby (knock a little louder)  
>Bang bang bang! On the door<br>Bang bang bang! On the door baby  
>Bang bang! <em>

_You're what?... Tin roof, rust!  
>Love Shack, baby Love Shack, Love Shack, baby Love Shack!<br>Love Shack, baby Love Shack, Love Shack, baby Love Shack!  
>A lot of love at the love shack<em>

* * *

><p>Sebastian hit the final notes on the piano and stopped, resting his hands on either side of his legs on the stool.<p>

That run of the song, like all the others, had been flawless. He hit every note beautifully and his voice never so much as faltered throughout the length of the song.

But Sebastian was not happy. Because the person he was singing it to would never hear him perform it.

He huffed and started another run through, pouring all his sadness and frustration into the words, yearning for some relief from the pain and torment he was feeling. Finding love, only to have it ripped away. It's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all, right?

He was so caught up in his thoughts that it took him a moment to realize that someone had begun applauding at the end of his rehearsal. He snapped his head up, meeting the stormy grey eyes of the school's principal.

"Professor Burton!"

"Mr. Larson. That was… well. That was simply outstanding."

"I… thank you, Ma'am."

"You have a gift, Toby. Treasure it."

Sebastian was taken aback. The strict professor was showing a softer side, encouraging. She was smiling softly, her eyes somehow gentler as they sparkled in the dim light. She reached out and lightly pressed a few keys, the notes resonating around the empty music hall in a beautiful, haunting echo.

"My husband used to play. He was a concert pianist." She stated.

Slightly weirded out and unsure, Sebastian merely nodded.

"He died eight years ago from stomach cancer. He would have turned sixty four today." She continued; a distant look in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. He sounded- sounds- like a great man."

She focused back on him and smiled. "He was. He was kind, caring and passionate, especially about music. This annual talent show is in commemoration of him. Do him proud, Toby."

Sebastian was moved by the adoration in the old Professor's voice as she spoke of her husband; how he could almost hear her heart breaking when she mentioned his death. Even after all these years, time never fully healed the gaping hole left in her heart. Her husband's loss still pained her.

He understood exactly how she felt. Time would do nothing for him; the only thing that could make him feel whole again was Santana. Even if his days were numbered, he wondered how she would feel for the rest of her life. Would she move on, settle down and be happy? Or end up like Professor Burton, allowing herself to get swallowed by the severity of control, loving his memory with the remaining fragments of her broken heart?

He really hoped it would be the former. She deserved a life of happiness, one she wouldn't be able to find with him. But then again, this was Santana Lopez, and he knew that when she wanted something, she would go to the ends of the world to get it. And Sebastian loved that about her - the fierce determination, the hunger for success.

What he never knew back then was how that same determination would nearly kill her in her quest to get him back.

* * *

><p>Having Sobered up slightly, Santana took to the stage once again.<p>

The opening guitar chords began on the karaoke machine and she fought to control the emotional wavering in her voice.

_I miss those blue eyes  
>How you kiss me at night<br>I miss the way we sleep  
><em>

Not blue, she thought in her hazy mind. Not blue. Green. The most beautiful shade of green in existence.

_Like there's no sunrise__  
><em>_Like the taste of your smile__  
><em>_I miss the way we breathe_

_But I never told you__  
><em>_What I should have said__  
><em>_No, I never told you__  
><em>_I just held it in__  
><em>  
><em>And now,<em>_  
><em>_I miss everything about you__  
><em>_Can't believe that I still want you__  
><em>_And after all the things we've been through__  
><em>_I miss everything about you__  
><em>_Without you_

She choked back a sob. Why couldn't she just have told him? Now it was too late._  
><em>  
><em>I see your blue eyes<em>_  
><em>_Everytime I close mine__  
><em>_You make it hard to see__  
><em>_Where I belong to__  
><em>_When I'm not around you__  
><em>_It's like I'm alone with me_

_But I never told you__  
><em>_What I should have said__  
><em>_No, I never told you__  
><em>_I just held it in__  
><em>

A single tear rolled down her cheek.

_And now,__  
><em>_I miss everything about you__  
><em>_Can't believe that I still want you__  
><em>_And after all the things we've been through__  
><em>_I miss everything about you__  
><em>_Without you_

_But I never told you__  
><em>_What I should have said__  
><em>_No, I never told you__  
><em>_I just held it in_

_And now,__  
><em>_I miss everything about you__  
><em>_Can't believe that I still want you__  
><em>_And after all the things we've been through__  
><em>_I miss everything about you__  
><em>_Without you_

Mumbling a quick 'thank you' to the applauding audience, Santana ran off stage and to the bathroom. The floodgates opened and she cried until she felt she had no tears left to cry.

She was tired, so very tired. She missed Sebastian so much it hurt. She curled up into a ball against the tiled wall, rocking slightly in her heels.

The buzzing of her phone brought her back to reality. She sniffed to clear her nose and answered her phone.

"Hello?" her voice was thick and hoarse from all the crying.

"Santana?" She froze. Who could possibly know her name? This was her work phone! She was starting to panic when the male voice continued.

"Or should I say, Carla." An uneasy chuckle. "This is Mike."

She was still stuck in a confused silence.

"Don't worry, I'm on your side. I'm working for- with Artie."

At the mention of Artie's name, Santana relaxed.

"Oh right. Mike. Wow."

"Yeah. We go way back."

"So all along, you've known what's going on?"

"Yupp. Every detail." He said chirpily. "Man, Sebastian's got himself in deep shit."

She cleared her throat.

"Right. Not helping." He answered rather sheepishly.

"No." she said coldly.

"Anyway, based on the fact that there are no loud voices or bass music in the background, I assume you're in the pub's bathroom right now."

Hmm. He _was_the audio technician, after all. He was trained to analyse things like these.

"Is anyone else in there?"

Only then did she realise that in her distressed meltdown, there might have been elephants dancing in the room and she wouldn't have noticed. She did a quick check of the stalls.

"Yeah. All clear."

"Good. Because what I'm about to tell you is classified information." He paused, and Santana found herself holding her breath. "Santana, we've got ourselves a lead."_  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>*DUN DUN DUN* hehe hoped you all enjoyed the chapter! Please drop in a review if you have the time(: Thanks for reading!<em>

_Song Credits:  
><em>_Love Shack - B-52's  
><em>_I Never Told You - Colbie Caillat_


	11. Chapter 9

_**Author's Note:** So here's the next chapter! Thank you once again for the reviews, I adore you guys so much. Reviews give me warm fuzzies (:_

_I know the story's been lacking a little Sebtana moments right now, but those will come within the next few chapters. I promise. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? ;)_

_Again, for those interested, Lucy Hale is who I picture as McKenzie Stuart. And don't worry, I don't think that Andrew Garfield is a prick at all, but I have my reasons for choosing him as the face claim that you will find out soon enough. (*cue evil laughter*)_

_Finally, I apologise for any errors in this as well as previous chapters - this story in unbeta-ed and I usually write in the wee hours of the morning. Whoops._

_Without further ado, I present to you - Chapter 9._

* * *

><p><strong>Thick as Thieves<strong>

Chapter 9 - The Henchmen

"Santana? Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah Mike. I'm here. Fine. I'm fine."

"Okay…" though he sounded completely unconvinced. "Well, we're running on a rather tight schedule so I'm just gonna jump right into this okay?"

"Of course."

"Great. Okay so basically, whoever it is working for Sexton has been cleaning up their trail as they've gone along. However, there was a glitch- probably a slip up and a whole document folder on their system remained undeleted. I managed to make a copy before they realized and destroyed the files, but unfortunately the folder is under multiple layers of pass code protection that I am still trying to decode as we speak. I suspect it'll take several more days to break through the restriction barriers.

"But I also managed to recover some old photographic footage of Gareth Marsen leaving the Sexton estate. Marsen has been previously linked with suspicious behavior involving misuse of company funds. He was sacked from Shelford Architecture in a rather public court session by the Property Mogul CEO himself. Quentin Shelford died two weeks later, _supposedly_ from a stroke induced by natural causes. We, of course, believe otherwise. If Sexton has hired Marsen, we're gonna have to keep an eye on both."

"So we know who to go after now?"

"Woah. Calm down. It's not that simple." And Santana felt her heart sink, if possibly, even lower. "Ever since his house arrest Graham has been incredibly selective of whom he meets with. You can't just barge in there and raid his house for evidence."

"What are you suggesting?"

"It's time to summon the powers of undercovery-inception."

"I don't get you."

"Carla Rodriguez, your CIA agent alter ego, is going to go undercover as Sami Ramirez, the new best friend of Ashley and Christie Sexton. You're gonna go two layers of undercovery. Comprende?"

Santana couldn't help the dark, humourless chuckle that escaped her lips. "Right. Whatever. And 'undercovery' isn't even a word, Einstein."

"Meh. I digress. Artie and I have arranged for you to meet the twins at the big party they are hosting in four night's time. But for now, I need you to go back out into that pub. Two of our guys are waiting for you. They should be enough to spot – Jeff's the tall blonde and Nick's the shorter brunette. Chances are you'll know it's them the second you see them. It's not like they're inconspicuous when it comes to making their presence known."

"Yeah I think I saw them earlier - both seemed high on something…"

"Yeah. That's them."

"Okay…"

"Go up to them, but nondescriptly. Act like you were just there and they were the ones approaching you and you are trying to brush them off. Knowing them, you'll probably have to, anyway. They'll pass you a USB storage device containing the images I was talking about as well as a few documents you're going to need. Look through them the first chance you get. Artie's also instructed them to hand you an earpiece. We'll keep in touch through that."

"Okay. Great. Thank you, Mike."

"Sure. And one more thing – remember that Puck doesn't know you're more personally invested in this case than you should be. I suggest you keep it that way, for his sake as well as yours."

"I… Of course. Thanks again."

"You take care there, Santana. We're all trying our best to help."

"I know. Bye."

"Bye." The line went dead.

Santana sighed and leaned over the sink. Artie and Mike didn't know how her relationship with Puck was complicated, that he unknowingly knew about her secret life. She just hoped that along the way, he wouldn't finally connect the dots and realize she really was who he thought she was.

She realized she could only procrastinate for so long before she'd have to face everyone again. The sooner she stopped hiding in the bathroom, the better.

Santana wiped up the mascara stains running down her face and reapplied her make up. She painted on her face, the mask she showed the world. She refused to let anyone see past that barrier, the façade that she lived behind. After swiping a mascara wand through her naturally luscious lashes and staining her lips with a fresh coat of dark red lipstick, she felt comfortable enough to face everyone again.

She pushed through the double French doors and spotted Nick and Jeff almost immediately. Mike was right. The two henchmen were far from soft spoken. Jeff was currently trying to pour some drink out of a scotch glass down the back of his friend's shirt while Nick was preoccupied playing Temple Run on his phone. Jeff succeeded, and with a yell, Nick jumped up and began whacking Jeff on the head with the edge of his phone.

Santana refrained from face palming. If these were the guys she was going to have to rely on to keep her and Sebastian safe, she was screwed. Still, casting them a meaningful look, she sat herself several stools down from where they were at the bar.

At least they got the hint, because not long after, she felt them approach.

"Excuse me, Ms. Carla, I believe?"

Santana gave the blonde a withering look.

"I'm Jeff. Nick and I just wanted to tell you that you have an amazing voice."

"You were phenomenal up on that stage tonight." Nick agreed.

Santana pasted on a fake, sweet smile. "Why thank you, boys. Now kindly piss off and leave me alone."

The men sensed the eyes of Noah Puckerman on them and knew that Santana was putting on an act. Still, they had to move fast because Puck looked as if he would be coming over any minute.

"Hey now, Sweetheart. At least let us buy you a drink?" Jeff reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, though Santana felt him slide the tiny earpiece in place. Once it was securely lodged in the shell of her ear, she pushed him away and dramatized a show of yelling at him in Spanish for touching her without permission. She shook her head in mock anger, the movement causing her hair to fall back over her ear and cover the plastic device.

Puck started to move towards them, pushing through the crowd.

Nick moved in fast. He grabbed hold of her arm to calm her down, and as he did so, pushed the USB device up the sleeve of her leather jacket. Again, she shook him off, making the device fall into the palm of her hand. She closed her fingers around it as she flipped Nick off.

Santana rose from the bar stool with an angry huff, only to crash right into the chiseled chest of Noah Puckerman.

"Are you alright, Carla? Those two fuckwits been giving you a hard time…"

"No! I'm fine. Honestly." Santana insisted with a small smile. "But thank you, Puck. It's nice having someone watching out for me."

He gave Nick and Jeff a glare that made the pair recoil slightly before turning to Santana with a surprisingly gentle smile. "Sure. Anytime."

They shared the moment for while, until she saw his features rearrange. Dread filled her at his next statement:

"I think we need to talk."

* * *

><p>Sebastian shook the rain water from his hair as he walked down the halls to his dorm. Stopping outside the door, he removed his muddy soccer boots and sopping socks. After a second thought, he decided to remove his soaked jersey too. He didn't want to leave a trail of muddy water all over the carpet of his room.<p>

He fought back a shiver as his bare, wet torso came into direct contact with the cold air. Without hesitation, he pushed open the door to be greeted by the welcome warmth of the room.

"I'm back!" he called out.

"Oh hey," Benji yelled back. "Hey… Toby. You're back early!"

His room mate's face appeared at the door, looking like he'd just been caught with his hand down a cookie jar. Sebastian was incredibly suspicious.

"Actually, dear Benjamin, I'm ten minutes late. And you weren't at soccer practice. What's up?"

"Nothing!" he all but yelled. "Just… I was just… tidying the room! That's it. Cleaning up, you know? Heheh." Benji laughed sheepishly.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. Benji was great guy, but the worst liar he had ever met. But he decided to play along. Purposefully eyeing the "organized mess" that was Benji's half of the room, Sebastian said "I see that cleaning's been coming along great. I'm sure the Dean will be impressed during our mandatory random room checks."

At this, Benji paled, his blue eyes widening almost comically. He disappeared back into the room. Chuckling, Sebastian followed closely behind.

His smile disappeared in shock when he realized that Benji wasn't alone. He was huddled in a corner, whispering heatedly with none other than McKenzie Stuart, who was cooing and giggling quietly at something in delight. Sebastian cleared his throat rather awkwardly, and both heads snapped up to look at him. McKenzie first looked surprised at his presence, then seemed to realize his bare chest and blushed scarlet, looking away. Benji just looked afraid.

"Well well well. What do we have here?" Sebastian sang, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, causing McKenzie's blush to impossibly deepen and Benji to turn faintly pink around the tips of his ears.

The pair both spoke at the same time, trying to mumble out a series of responses while Sebastian just laughed to himself.

"We were trying to-"

"There was this insect that-"

"I dropped a pencil and-"

"There was a cockroach in her room and she was terrified and-"

"Thunder. I was scared of the thunder-"

The room fell dead silent when I small mewl sounded from the corner that Benji and McKenzie were huddled around. They exchanged a nervous glance before looking back at Sebastian.

"Benji, step away from that corner."

"I… no."

"Benji. Git."

"No!"

"Now!"

Reluctantly, Benji grabbed hold of McKenzie's wrist and backed away, revealing a cardboard box from which the mewls and purrs were originating.

A tiny kitten sat in the folds of the soft fleece blanket lining the box, staring up at Sebastian with wide, innocent blue eyes.

He sat down cross-legged next to the box and picked up the tiny white and grey creature, cradling in securely in his arms. He patted it between the ears with two of his fingertips and the kitten let out a contented meow, nuzzling against his hand. Sebastian smiled fondly at it as it started licking at his wrist, purring gently as he continued to rub its tummy.

* * *

><p><em>It was pouring, but even the weather couldn't dampen their moods. Sebastian and Santana had just concluded yet another successful bust that added another eight thousand dollars to each of their bank accounts. They drove down the deserted highway, singing along to the radio at the top of their lungs and laughing till their sides burned.<em>

_As they drove over a bridge that stretched over a river, the car headlights shone over the gushing water, reflecting off the dark surface and into the night._

"_Stop!" Santana suddenly cried._

_Alarmed, Sebastian slammed the brakes, throwing them both forward in their seatbelts. He winced at the pressure across his collar bone. "What is it? What happened?"_

_The only reply he got, however, was the splashing if heavy raindrops against the pavement. The passenger door was wide open and the seat vacant. He saw the silhouette of his partner running down the slippery bank, right to the water._

"_What are you doing?" he bellowed. She couldn't hear him over the pounding of the rain. "Damn it!" he yelled in frustration, before grabbing a torch from the glove compartment and running out after her._

_He pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and cautiously made his way down the slippery embankment towards Santana. She stood by the edge of the gushing water, gesturing wildly at him and pointing at something in the water._

_Sebastian turned to look at what she was pointing at, aiming the torch so that it shone on the narrow strip of rock jutting out from the water. Two kittens looked back at him like deer caught in headlights. The water level was rising rapidly as the torrential rain poured down. They had to move fast before the current washed the two juvenile felines away._

_He turned back to Santana to shout some instructions, only to find the space she was originally standing vacant, her coat draped over the branch of a nearby tree._

_Sebastian panicked. She wasn't stupid enough to go into the water, was she? The currents were far too strong and the danger of getting washed away was high._

_He froze when he saw the splashing figure waist-deep in the water. Santana was more than halfway to the secluded island, though it was evident that she was struggling against the currents that were threatening to sweep her away. One slip of footing and she'd be gone._

_Thinking fast, Sebastian propped the torch up to give him some light before running across the crunching gravel to a fallen tree branch lying nearby. It was heavy, and he grunted with the exertion it took to lug the wood down to the bank. He hastily removed his belt and looped it around an outcrop of rock, then his wrist just in case he lost his balance._

_He let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding when he saw that Santana had made it to the kittens and was carefully tucking them down the front of her shirt, though the water level was at her chest height now and seemed to be rising even more rapidly than before. _

"_Santana!" He yelled over the sound of rain and the raging river, as well as the heavy pounding of his own heart in his ears._

_She saw what he was doing and quickly got the message. Pulling the front of her top over the kittens, she started making her way back to where Sebastian had the tree branch extended over the water for her to grab on to. _

_She grabbed hold of the branch. Sebastian heaved. Her feet hit the shore._

_She carefully laid the shivering kittens onto a rock._

"_Don't you EVER fucking pull something like that again!" he shouted, his chest heaving in exertion._

_Santana stood up, nodding and choking. She lost her footing. With a shriek, she was pulled into the water and her head went under._

"_Santana!"_

_Without a second thought, Sebastian stripped off his jacket and dived in after her._

_The water was freezing, the cold biting and painful. He felt his calf get sliced by something sharp on the river bed as the currents pulled him under. He kicked hard, his head breaking the surface a good three metres from where he had originally entered._

_He yelled her name. From the faint glow of the torch, he found her thrashing silhouette just before it got dragged back under the surface a few metres down stream, but nearer to the bank than he was._

_Sebastian was a champion swimmer, but all the awards and medals contested to nothing when it came to this. His numb fingers barely managed to wrap around Santana's arm before icy water filled his mouth and he felt himself getting sucked back into the black, frosty depths._

_His head was buzzing from the lack of oxygen, but somehow, he conjured the final strength to make his legs work, propelling them both back to the shore._

_His fingers scraped through mud and gravel. They made it. They scrambled up as far as they could out of the water before collapsing in exertion._

_He couldn't remember how long they had laid there in the pouring rain, choking out water and gasping for air. The adrenaline rush began to subside, and brought with its departure the realization of what had happened. Her body convulsed violently with shivers and his teeth were chattering uncontrollably in the bitter wind._

"_I-I'm s-s-sorry-y." She managed to choke out._

_Sebastian was livid and wanted nothing more than to shout and yell and hit her for being such an idiot. But he glanced at his partner, and the tiny kittens curled up together on the rock. _

_For the first time, he saw a human side to Santana. He understood that behind the tough, bitchy exterior was a girl with a heart, a girl willing to risk her own life to save a pair of stranded kittens from inevitable death._

_He looked at her face, pale from the dim lighting and the trauma of what had just happened, and saw no regret. Santana Lopez valued life – even those of two helpless creatures that would have meant next to nothing to anyone else. The irony was that she almost lost hers in the process._

"_It's fine." He replied quietly. "Let's get out of here."_

_Each grabbing hold of a kitten, they trudged their way back up the bank and to the car. Sebastian placed both cats onto Santana's lap in the passenger seat, wrapping his jacket around her shoulders and cranking the heater up to full._

_The ride was silent._

"_Thank you." She finally muttered, placing a hand on his thigh. "I owe you my life."_

_He peeled his eyes from the road to meet her gaze. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a shadow of his trademark smirk. _

"_Well, that's a favour I sincerely hope you'll never have to return."_

* * *

><p>"We found it under the bramble bush down by the back of the building. It was shivering so hard and was completely drenched by the rain, so we brought it up here to warm up." McKenzie explained.<p>

Sebastian nodded in understanding. It was the right thing to do.

"You can't keep it."

Benji sighed in resignation. "I know."

The three just sat around in comfortable silence, watching the kitten curled up in a ball, sound asleep in Sebastian's lap.

"Who's up for some hot cocoa?" McKenzie suddenly asked.

She giggled at the hopeful faces of the two boys looking up at her. "I'll even throw in some extra marshmallows."

Benji whooped and hollered, tripping over his own feet and face planting with a dull thud. "Ooof."

Sebastian rolled his eyes at McKenzie, who was doubled over in hysterics.

Her delighted squealing woke then kitten, who decided to run towards the commotion and batted at Benji's head with its little paws.

The sight of the kitten seemingly patting Benji's head condescendingly made even Sebastian laugh, imagining the look that would have been on Santana's face if she had been here to witness it herself.

* * *

><p>"What's up, Puck?" Santana restrained from giggling at the pun. This was a serious talk; she doubted Puck would appreciate any Bugs Bunny humourat the moment.<p>

"Ha-ha. Very clever."

"Thank you, Sir. I try my best."

She saw a ghost of a smile cross his face before his eyebrows knitted together again.

"Santana."

Her breath hitched.

"I know it's you," he continued "I could never forget a voice like that."

"I.. I"

"I know it's meant to be a secret. I knew Carla wasn't your real name and you had to assume a new identity because of what happened in your last assignment in New Jersey. I thought you looked familiar when I first saw you, but then I recalled that your file said you had undergone facial reconstruction surgery as part of your new identity so I couldn't be sure. I convinced myself that it was just a coincidence that this "Carla" happened to end up looking like you after her surgery. But tonight, hearing you sing up on that stage… it's you. I know it is." He said hurriedly.

"I've missed you, Puckzilla." She whispered.

The doubt in his hazel eyes vanished and he laughed in obvious relief. "I've missed you too, Snix."

They grinned widely at each other.

"That was a clever touch, by the way - Saying that you had undergone surgery when you didn't. Now they won't be looking out for anyone that looks like you anymore."

She had nearly forgotten about that. "Right! Of course. That was the idea."

He whistled. "Who would have thought that Santana Lopez, of all people, a CIA field agent? Just when everyone thought you couldn't possibly get any hotter…" Puck let his voice trail off, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

"I could say the same about you!" She retorted. "I wasn't the one who spent time in juvie for stealing an ATM."

"Touché."

He opened his arms, inviting her in for a hug. How could she refuse? She willingly threw herself into the warm embrace. Though as she tucked her chin into the crook of his shoulder and neck, she chewed on her lip in worry. What now?

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Tah-dah! As always, feel free to hit up the reviews for any comments of questions. Thank you for reading! (:_


	12. Chapter 10

_**Author's Note**: Hey everyone! Sorry I've been MIA for so long... Haven't been doing too well in school tests so I needed the time to catch up. I'm really sorry ): _

_I won't keep you back from this any more with my meaningless ramblings, so enjoy! (:_

* * *

><p><strong>Thick as Thieves<strong>

Chapter 10 - The Show

Quinn sighed. As much as she had been all caught up with helping Santana and facing her past, she had to get back to work. Her latest project was a film about an American girl, played by her, who was sent to an old English boarding school when her father passed away and she mother was a heart broken wreck, incapable of caring for her. Along the way, she finds some secrets that have haunted the school for centuries. It was a horror/thriller, with some odd traces of dark comedy. She was excited for the project, but her mood was slightly dampened by worry over her best friend's dilemma.

Her plane touched down in Heathrow Airport and had to take a four hour drive out to the school campus they would be using as the primary filming location. They pulled up to the ivy-covered brick buildings, and Quinn was blown away. The expansive grounds were gorgeous and exactly how she'd imagined the set when she had received the script.

The school had kept their promise of keep the news of the campus being used as the set of the movie fairly quiet, and Quinn appreciated that she would be able to enjoy a few days of privacy until the large sets and cameras became too obvious to evade the student body. However, there was to be a talent show on their fifth night on set, so the cast and crew decided they would take a break from filming and watch. It wasn't as if the filming schedule was that busy yet anyway, seeing as the cinematographers and directors were still setting up and scouting the vast school grounds for possible locations to film. Quinn and the film's director were even invited to judge the competition. It would be her way of a formal introduction to the fans that the rumours were true and she was indeed on set.

Quinn loved watching the showcase of young talent, and happily agreed to the offered position as judge. How could she refuse?

* * *

><p>"Oh. My god. This looks so totally stunning on me!" Ashley gushed, her twin sister Christie clapping in approval.<p>

"And the best part" Christie pitched in "is that it'll look gorgeous on me, too!"

Santana tried her hardest not to roll her eyes at the two girls squealing and grasping each other's hands, jumping up and down in excitement from their new find in the Juicy Couture outlet they were shopping in.

"Sami, you sure try this skirt on!" Ashley squeaked at Santana. "It'll look so like, pretty with your eyes."

With an attempted smile that ended up looking more like a grimace, Santana grabbed the garment from the blonde's manicured hands and with a grating word of thanks, sashayed into fitting room.

She sighed and sank down into a hot pink leather arm chair in the corner of the stall. Trying to enter the company building via the twins might just have been the most torturous part of her mission to save Sebastian by far. They were thee most shallow, stupid and annoying people Santana had ever met. She swore her ear drums actually hurt from all the high-pitched squealing she had had to put up with over the past week. She'd much rather have pretended to be the janitor or something than have to deal with all the shallow chatter and waste of time and money in branded shops. But she was incredibly grateful to whoever it was up there that was looking out for her that the girls didn't recognize her as Mr. Dreamy's fiancée from their birthday party all those months ago.

She held the skirt that Ashley had instructed her to try on at arms length and tried hopelessly to find how they could possibly think that the garish, tacky yellow pleather could possibly ever match her brown eyes. So there was something else to add to their list of non-existent talents – Fashion.

Still, Santana had to stay in character and entertaining their pointless, meaningless wishes was part of the deal. She pulled her chiffon sundress over her head and pulled on the skirt, zipping it up at the back. Hideous as the garment was, she was Santana Lopez and still managed to sort of pull off the look. She appraised herself in the full-length mirror wall. The tight faux patent leather of the mini hugged her every curve from her waist to hips to mid-thigh where the hem ended. The band of skin between the high waistline of the skirt and her black bra was tanned and toned, the short hem of the skirt making her stiletto-clad legs extend on forever.

"Sami, we're coming in now! You've gotta let us have a look!"

"Whatever for," Santana thought bitterly to herself. "You'll make me buy it anyway."

The curtain was swished aside and the girls flocked into the huge stall, making Santana twirl for them so they could have a good look at how the skirt looked on her.

"Oh my god. That looks amazing on you." Christie gushed.

"I know right? I told you it would!" Ashley beamed, evidently very proud of her superb eye for fashion.

Santana forced a smile that might have been just a tad bit too fake. But who cares, everything about these girls was fake.

"You are so right!" she exclaimed in her best impression of the spoiled rich girl persona. "I'm am like, totes getting this. Thank you for the recommendation, honey!" just for effect, she even swooped in and gave Ashley a peck on the cheek. "You are like, so perfect, and pretty, and obviously are like, super talented in fashion."

"Oh shush you. I know."

"Oh my gosh. I just had like the best idea ever! Sami, you should totally come stay the night at ours today. We could have a slumber party, and give each other mani pedis and have girl talk."

Santana smiled a genuine smile for the first time since she had become the Sexton twin's new 'BFF'. Finally, she was granted access into the Sexton household. She cringed at the thought of having to attend this 'party' the girls were throwing, but it meant that she would be all that much closer to the file cabinet in Daddy Dearest's study.

* * *

><p>"Fuck!" Puck swore, bringing his finger to his lips and sucking gently on the injured flesh. He examined the tiny wound bitterly. It was amazing how much pain something as tiny as a paper cut could cause. Especially when you have an average of about ten on each hand.<p>

Squeezing out a final few droplets of blood from the tiny laceration, he absent-mindedly wiped it up on his khakis and loosened the tie around his neck. It was uncomfortably hot down in the mail room where he was disguising at the mail boy. There must have been some problem with the air conditioning in the basement that Sexton was too stingy to provide the budget to repair. It was no wonder the previous mail worker had been so willing to quit.

Puck rifled through the thick stack of mail, laying the documents in piles as he sorted through them. This had to be the most boring job on the planet. He sighed and stretched out the kinks in his neck from having his head bowed towards the table this whole time. Impatiently, he checked his phone for any messages. What in the world was taking Mike so long? He should have the codes by now!

Just as Puck growled in frustration as he put the phone away, it started buzzing and the screen lit up with an incoming call.

"You go for Puck."

"Hey, man."

"Got anything for me, Mike?"

"Well… Yes and No."

"Do explain. I haven't got all day."

"Actually, without information from me, you would."

Puck could hear the smirk in his friend's voice. "Shut up and get on with it, please."

"Ugh. Fine. You're no fun these days." The voice grumbled from the other end of the line. "There's been a change of plans. I couldn't find the exact codes, but I did, however, manage to find out the password to his office computer, and all the codes to the locked files are saved in a document on there. I need you to break into the office and pass the codes on to me so I can unlock the folders. Comprende?"

"Aha, Chang. So now I'm the one saving the day; not the pathetic mailroom boy who's just here to 'keep an eye on things'?"

"Fuck you, Puckerman."

"I love you too, buddy."

"I think I need to make an appointment with my dentist. That sentiment was way too sugary for my taste."

Puck laughed in response.

"But seriously, Puck. It's vital you get that info to me as soon as you can. The house is fairly empty for now, from what the security feeds are showing me. Santana's still out with the twins and Sexton was at some meeting. I'll see to it that he's stalled to buy you a bit more time."

"Will do. I'll keep you posted."

"Take care, and good luck."

* * *

><p>Ugh. Finally. Santana marched into the guest room in the Sexton Estate that the Girl's had assigned her to and threw the bags of purchases into a corner. It wasn't as if she would ever wear any of the tacky stuff in there anyway.<p>

She kicked off the platform heels in annoyance – While she appreciated a pretty pair of Christian Louboutins, but whoever decided it was a good idea to go all-day shopping in a pair of them was just plain ridiculous. Entering the en suite bathroom, Santana flipped on the light switch and the huge room was illuminated with a soft glow.

She scrubbed her face clean of the makeup and splashed cold water on her face before stripping out of her clothes. In one swift motion, she twisted and coiled her long, dark hair into a loose bun to keep it off her shoulders and hopped into the cubicle for a hot shower.

The slightly too-hot water pounded mercilessly against her back, loosening up the stiff muscle and she felt herself begin to relax. When she felt like she had wasted enough water, she climbed out of the shower and wrapped a huge, fluffy white towel around herself and made her way back out into the bedroom.

Santana rifled her suitcase, hunting for a set of pyjamas. She pulled out her favourite comfy, soft fleece onesie and considered it for a moment, then remembered that she had to go to the twins' Slumber Party and had to look 'decent'. Sighing in resignation, she stuffed the jumpsuit back into the bag in favour of a deep purple satin nightgown.

As she turned around, however, she realised she was not alone.

"Argh!" she shrieked, taken by surprise by the man standing in the doorway. She held the towel up as she narrowed her eyes at the figure.

"You must be Sami." The man's familiar face lit up with a smirk.

"Ugh. Damn you, Puck. You gave me a fright."

"All in a day's work for the Puckosaurus."

Santana rolled her eyes. "What are you doing up here, anyway? Aren't you meant to be in the mail room, Delivery Boy?"

"Change of plans. As always, I'm the one who has to save the day." Puck sighed dramatically. "I was on my way to the study when I walked past this room. You really should learn to not leave your door ajar. It promotes… curiosity."

"Get over yourself and get out. I need to change." Santana demanded, waving the bundle of clothes around in annoyance. "Got a Slumber Party to go to!" she cheers in mock enthusiasm.

Puck just laughed at her. Tired, resentful and irritable, the gesture annoyed her more than it typically would have. She stormed over to the doorway and said sharply "Go save the day then, hero" before slamming the door in her old friend's face.

"Love you too, San." came the muffled reply from behind the door, followed by footsteps walking away down the hall. Santana smiled in spite of herself as she got dressed. She would always have a special place in her heart for that man.

* * *

><p>"What the fuck, man. Can you do anything right?" Nick shoved roughly at Jeff, causing the tall blonde to take a few steps back to regain his balance. For a little guy, his best 'frenemy' was pretty tough.<p>

He snuck a glance back at the car and through the tinted windows could just make out the silhouette of an increasingly furious Graham Sexton yelling through his phone. He fought back a smirk before turning back to Nick and shoving his hard in the shoulder so the significantly shorter brunette fell over and landed on his butt.

He was concerned for a moment when his friend didn't move for a moment he didn't really get hurt, did he?) But when Nick gave the slightest of nods in his direction he knew he was okay. So he threw back his head and guffawed for a moment before storming off, sliding his hands into the pockets of his grease-covered workman overalls.

Nick rose from the ground and brushed his suit off, waving towards Graham in the car before following Jeff into the tiny air-conditioned office. He double-checked that they couldn't be overheard before shutting the door.

"You think he bought it?" Jeff asked, half standing, half sitting on the small wooden desk.

Nick shrugged his shoulders. "I think so. I don't see any reason why he wouldn't. Everything went as planned."

"Aren't you gonna thank me for the great job done at making a flat tire even flatter?"

"Oh please, I did that. All you have to do is drag out the repair process for as long as you can now. YOU should be thanking ME for making your job easy."

The two continued to bicker over who had the harder job – Nick as Sexton's replacement driver (his usual one came down with a curious case of food poisoning overnight) or Jeff as the car repair mechanic at Hummel's Tires and Lube.

The shrill ringing of Jeff's mobile interrupted their argument.

"Sup."

"Are they still at the garage?"

"Why hello to you too, O' Mighty Sir Artie."

"Are they?"

Jeff sighed. "You've really no fun at all. Yes, hobbit is here with Sexton. We're stalling, just as you asked."

Nick glanced out through the blinds to see that Sexton had left the vehicle and was storming towards the office, his face a rather unpleasant shade of purplish red. Steam was practically coming out his ears – he looked absolutely livid.

He kicked Jeff in the shins to catch his attention and the blonde nodded back.

"Oops okay Artie, he's coming now I've gotta run - Oh crap he's here. Oi, Nick, pretend to punch me-"

The line went dead.

"No! No no no Jeff you've got to stall longer! There's been a complication and Puck needs more time! Come on guys!"

All he got in reply was the dull beeping of the line. They didn't get the message. Artie slammed the phone down in frustration. Mike had just called to say that Puck was having some problems accessing the folders. All he could do now was to hope for the best, that Graham Sexton wouldn't walk in and catch him red-handed.

* * *

><p>"And he was like, so super hot and he bought me Marc Jacob's latest collection too!"<p>

"Girl, he is SO a keeper. Well, until the next one comes along."

Unable to tolerate another moment of the shallow, meaningless 'girl talk', Santana mumbled something about needing the bathroom and slipped silently away from the group. She doubted anyone noticed her absence anyway – they were all so preoccupied chatting and drinking appletinis.

She closed the door and wrapped the matching purple satin bathrobe a little tighter around her body. In her bare feet, she stealthily padded along the carpeted hallway to the door of Sexton's study.

The door was unlocked. Santana checked that there was no one in the hall who could see her before stepping into the room and shutting the door quietly behind her. She looked around the spacious room.

Honestly, she had no idea what she was looking for. If things had gone as planned, Puck would have been in here earlier and gotten whatever it was they needed. Still, she wanted to be able to have accomplished SOMETHING after having to have put up with the utter trash that was the Sexton twins. Taking a mental note of the room's condition so she could reinstate it later, she walked over to the desk and opened up a drawer.

Files. Next Drawer: Files. More files. Drawers after drawers of files and folders. She all but slammed the last drawer shut in frustration. Just as she was about to give up and leave, something caught her eye.

A pager. She turned the small device over in her hands. It was old - she didn't recall having seen anyone use of these in years, but it seemed to be functional so she pocketed it nonetheless. Who knows0- maybe Mike and Artie might be able to get some information from it.

After a final glance around the room, she left. In her haste to search and leave, it never occurred to her that the dark splotch on the grey carpet behind the overturned office chair might possibly have been blood.

* * *

><p>This was it. The night of the concert. Sebastian hadn't seen Benji all day, after the younger boy had taken off sometime around noon mumbling something about rivals and enemies and pompous prats.<p>

He straightened up is tie and smoothed out his blazer, then fixed his hair by rubbing some of Benji's styling wax between his palms and running it through his soft brown locks. The result was an effortlessly casual look that suited him perfectly – not too messy, but not too slick either. Normally, he would never bother with the hair product but seeing as this was a school event, he reckoned it was expected of him to look his best.

A few soft knocks on his dressing room door; a runner telling him he was up soon. Sebastian smiled confidently and nodded, saying he would be backstage in a minute.

A final glance in the mirror; a deep breath. It was his turn.

* * *

><p>Santana loaded her luggage and backpack into her car. Finally. She had given the girls a slip when she saw how drunk they were. Noone would remember her disappearance at all. Heck, some wouldn't even remember her existence.<p>

Now that she was in a comfortable black v-neck with khaki cargo pants and black boots, she felt much more powerful. No longer the weak, spoiled princess, but the strong, capable young woman who was on a mission to save the love of her life. How romantic.

She sat down in the driver's seat. Just as she picked up her phone to ring Artie, the screen lit up with an incoming call.

Unknown number.

She answered and held the phone to her ear warily.

"Good evening. You must be my Santana Lopez. My name is Gareth. Gareth Marsen." came the pleasant male baritone from the other end of the line.

Santana froze. Blood ran cold in her veins.

"See here's the thing, Santana. I've come to the realization that some people are just not quite who they seem, now are they? I mean, hypothetically, how could one of CIA's most valued field agents possibly be one of the most wanted con artists of all time? Or, get this – The mailroom delivery boy is actually said agent's completely unsuspecting superior?"

There was a horribly groan in the background, followed by a garbled cry of "leave her out of this!" It was unmistakably Puck.

The pain-filled groan of agony triggered her back to her senses and Santana finally found her voice. "Don't hurt him."

"Ah, Sweetheart. I think that's something we're going to have to negotiate in person. Meet me at the office in ten minutes. Do NOT, be late."

* * *

><p>Quinn had insisted to her stylist that she wanted nothing fancy done to her look for the night – the show was about the students' talents, not her. They had decided on a simple, floaty cream frock that went to her knees and minimal hair styling and makeup. She still looked timelessly, demurely gorgeous. She seated herself on the velvet-covered judging table alongside her film's director and the school principal.<p>

The first act was a blonde girl who played a heart-wrenching rendition of Disney's Reflection on the violin. The second on the line up was an interpretive dance troupe who did an interpretive dance to Queen's Don't Stop Me Now, which had everybody clutching their sides in laughter.

For the third performance, a baby-faced boy walked on stage, an acoustic guitar hanging around his shoulder from a wide leather strap. Even from the distance, Quinn could see the piercing blue of his eyes where the stage lights reflected off them. "What pretty eyes," she thought.

"Hey everyone, I'm Benjamin Westmore and I'll be singing Sunday Morning by Maroon 5."

She smiled. This kid had a really good voice.

An Asian boy later went up to perform "The Flight of the Bumblebee" on the piano, his fingers flying over the keys with such precision, dexterity and speed that they became a blur. Everyone was dumbfounded by the end of the performance and applauded in awe.

For the fifth and final performance of the first act, a tall, lanky boy walked confidently on stage, His brown was hair styled impeccably to give off the illusion of effortless allure and his school uniform fitted his form perfectly. With his height, long limbs and build, this guy could be a model, Quinn thought, and saw her manager straighten up in her seat in interest. She was constantly on the look out for new talent and the young man standing on stage could very well be just that.

When her gaze landed on the boy's face, she froze. He was wearing thick-framed glasses and his hair was longer than she had remembered, but the man currently taking his seat before the grand piano was undoubtedly Sebastian Smythe.

* * *

><p>He seated himself in front of the piano, the lights dimming to a single spotlight focused on him and the grand instrument.<p>

He took a deep breath and began.

_A drop in the ocean  
>A change in the weather<br>I was praying that you and me might end up together  
>It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert<br>But I'm holding you closer than most,__  
>Cause you are my heaven.<em>

* * *

><p>Santana ran through the building, desperately crying out his name though she knew it would be to no avail. She refused to cry, but wiped at her eyes that were building up with tears of panic. She couldn't lose him, not when she had just found him again.<p>

* * *

><p><em>I don't wanna waste the weekend<br>If you don't love me, pretend _

_A few more hours, then it's time to go  
>As my train rolls down the east coast<em>

_I wonder how you keep warm  
>It's too late to cry<br>To broken to move on  
>And still I can't let you be<br>Most nights I hardly sleep  
>Don't take what you don't need from me<em>

* * *

><p>She shoulder rammed a door, feeling something click painfully in her shoulder. Still, the door gave way and she ran into the conference room. It was empty apart from the huge, long table that seated probably up to two dozen people, and a wilting indoor plant in a terra cotta pot in the corner.<p>

Without so much as a second of hesitation, she ran to the next room.

* * *

><p><em>It's just a drop in the ocean<br>A change in the weather  
>I was praying that you and me might end up together<br>It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert  
>But I'm holding you closer than most,<br>Cause you are my heaven._

* * *

><p>Her foot slammed into the next door, causing it to swing soundlessly round its hinges to expose the room. She fought back a sob when she saw that it too, was empty. However, something made her pause and look closer. Everything in it was white, from the floors to the walls to the ceiling, with no furniture whatsoever apart from a white chair.<p>

The eerie, pristine whiteness of the room only made the red of the bloodstain on the floor stand out that much more.

* * *

><p><em>Misplaced trust and old friends<br>Never counting regrets  
>But a grace of god I do not rest at all<br>In new England as the leaves change  
>The last excuse I'll claim,<em>

_I was a boy who loved a women like a little girl  
>And still I can't let you be<br>Most nights I hardly sleep  
>Don't take what you don't need from me<em>

* * *

><p>More doors disappeared behind her as she flew through the doorway.<p>

Her heart was pounding; she could hear it, feel it. The grating drags of air through her lungs.

All she was hoping was that she wasn't too late.

* * *

><p><em>It's just a drop in the ocean<br>A change in the weather  
>I was praying that you and me might end up together<br>It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert  
>But I'm holding you closer than most,<em>_  
>Cause you are my,<em>

* * *

><p>That was it. The door at the end of the hallway. She kicked in down without a second thought and the next thing she knew, she was plummeting, falling, rolling down flights after flights of stairs. She felt something crack, probably a rib or two and her shoulder popped out of its socket.<p>

None of this mattered to her at the moment; however, for all she registered before the blackness engulfed her was the crack of a pistol, the dull thud of a bullet finding its way through flesh and bone.

* * *

><p><em>Heaven doesn't seem far away anymore no no<br>Heaven doesn't seem far away  
>Heaven doesn't seem far away anymore no no<br>Heaven doesn't seem far away_

* * *

><p>Puck fell over, his hazel eyes wide and blank, never to blink again.<p>

* * *

><p><em>A drop in the ocean<br>A change in the weather  
>I was praying that you and me might end up together<br>It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert  
>But I'm holding you closer than most,<em>_  
>Cause you are my heaven.<em>

_You are my heaven_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>: So... What'd ya think? Please hit up the reviews!_

_I had hoped to spread the talent show into the next chapter, but I have so much more planned that I kinda wanted to get this scene out of the way. I absolutely adore it and I have had that snippet written out for ages. So I apologize if it seemed really rushed._

_Songs Used:_

_A Drop In The Ocean - Ron Pope._


	13. Chapter 11

_**Author's Note**: Hi everyone! I'm really sorry for how the last Chapter ended... it made me sad too )':_

_Once again, thank you all so so much for the reviews - keep em coming!(:_

_Without further ado...sit back, relax, and most of all... enjoy._

* * *

><p><strong>Thick as Thieves<strong>

Chapter 11 - The Phonecall

* * *

><p>"… Drove off, we couldn't catch him."<p>

"…Then again, our main concern at the time was getting her out alive, now wasn't it? We saw him go down, there was nothing we could do, might as well save the one who actually stood a chance…"

The detached voices seeped through her semi-concious mind, muffled and echoey from the tunnels of sleep. Her eyelids fluttered and she stirred, her stiff fingers twitching.

"She's waking up. I've gotta go. Check up on us again later."

She heard movement, footsteps drawing closer to her. Where was she? Lying on some mattress of sorts, it seemed - based on the cushiony, yet strangely lumpy surface pressed up against her back. Santana tried to move her hand, but her wrist felt constricted; tied up.

The horror struck her. Was she in the clutches of whoever it was that took Puck?

Puck. Puck. _Oh my god_, she thought, as the memories flooded back. Not Puck. Not Noah. Now, they've got her too. _Let them kill me_, she begged in her mind. _Let me die_. Because of her, Noah was gone. She fought to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt so heavy, like they were made of lead.

She thought of her life. Her Grandmother. The Vegas lights on the Strip. Quinn. Blaine. All the people she loved. Her childhood home. Hers and Quinn's café. Sebastian. Oh Sebastian. A silent tear ran down her cheek. After all they'd been through, it was over. And she took Puck down with her too. She hoped that he would forgive her. That she would have the privilege of meeting both of these incredible, brave men again in the afterlife.

"Santana?" came a soft voice, melodious and gentler than she expected.

She fought to open her eyes, because no matter how difficult it was to, she wanted to be able to look in her killer's eyes in the moment she was killed; to give Gareth Marsen a final death glare, an unspoken message of pure hatred and disgust. An accusation that would haunt him forever.

The first thing she saw was a pair of striking, bright blue eyes.

* * *

><p>Sebastian rose from his seat and took a bow to the enthusiastic audience. He ran backstage to compose himself, and within minutes was running back to his dorm. The halls were mostly deserted, everyone in the grand auditorium (more like a theatre, really) watching the show. However, it was intermission now and people were just starting to flock out. He entered dorm 3K unnoticed and began gathering his belongings.<p>

He had seen Quinn at the judging table. This was not good at all. Sebastian had no idea she would be here in England, let alone Sansbury Hall, of all places. He was hoping she wouldn't have recognized him from a distance on stage and with his glasses, but knew he was fooling himself. It was unmistakable. He had to move fast, before the show ended and she had a chance to question him. She would ask questions that he would be unable to answer.

Everything was packed and ready. Sebastian put on his coat and pulled a beanie low over his ears. Finally, he penned a note thanking Benji for everything he'd done for him over the past few weeks, and wishing him all the best for the future. He slipped the note under Benji's pillow together with a rather generous wad of hundred dollar bills. With one final glance, Sebastian sighed and left the room, the brass 3K flashing in the dim light as the door clicked shut.

He made his way silently through the halls he had become so accustomed to over the past month or so. Had his situation been any different, Sebastian would have loved to have been given the opportunity to study here. He made his way across the grounds to the garage; loading his bags into one of the school's land rovers (he had lifted the key of the school's elderly groundskeeper a few days previously).

Sebastian slid his hands into his pockets as he took a final look around the medieval campus, illuminated by the warm orange glow of the scattered lamp posts. His right hand closed around something in his pocket and he pulled out the small rectangular object, holding it up to the light to observe it.

Benji's harmonica. His room mate must have left it in there the last time he borrowed Sebastian's coat. Trust Benji to always bring some form of music with him wherever he went.

With an exasperated huff, Sebastian trudged back across the grounds to replace the instrument before Benji came back from the concert.

* * *

><p>Quinn knew that face anywhere. And even if her eyes had deceived her, her ears most certainly didn't. That distinctive voice was pure and clear, and in her opinion second to only her husband's. When the boy left the stage, she rose from the judges' table as well. Muttering something about needing a bathroom, she took off down the halls to try and find the backstage exit doors. She needed to talk to Sebastian, and find out what the hell he was doing all the way in England, and a private boarding school in the outskirts of the city, no less.<p>

Evidently Quinn had forgotten about her star status yet again, and without her bodyguards, soon found herself surrounded by a mob of screaming fans. Most were students of the school, although scattered amongst the crowd there were several visitors who were on campus to watch the talent show.

She was panicking. Cameras were clicking and people were screaming and getting far too near. Someone had stolen her scarf and the edge of her coat sleeve was ripped. She yelled for people to back off, but nobody listened.

A hand wrapped itself around her forearm and she shrieked in annoyance, beating it with her clutch and demanding she be released. Whoever was grabbing her didn't let go, instead pulling her out of the crowd. Once she was finally free of the sea of limbs, the person holding on to her dragged her away at full sprint, rounding a corner while draping a trench coat around her shoulders in an attempt to disguise her.

When they passed a flame-lit lamp, she caught a glimpse of the face hidden behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses.

Sebastian.

Eventually, they managed to shake off the screaming mob. He quietly snuck her through a door marked 3K as she compliantly followed along. Still shaken, Quinn allowed herself to be guided to the edge of a bed, where she automatically seated herself on.

Sebastian tugged off his beanie, running his hands through his hair as he breathed hard.

"Sebastian."

"Quinn."

"Seems like you have A LOT of explaining to do, Mr. Smythe."

* * *

><p>The man looming above her on the bed recoiled slightly at the hostility in her eyes.<p>

"Whoa." He muttered under his breath.

His face was familiar and jogged some memory buried somewhere deep within her mind. She battled through the haze and retrieved the information her brain had linked to that face. He wasn't evil, he was an ally, and he most certainly was not Gareth Marsen.

"Jeff?" She whispered.

"Hey. Thank god you're awake – I was starting to worry that Nick went overboard with the morphine."

Right on cue, said brunette entered the room.

"Santana? Hey… good to see you're awake. I'm sorry about the arm restraint – you kept fidgeting in your sleep and nearly yanked your IV out several times. We had no choice but to tie that arm down."

Now that she could see, Santana looked around her. She was lying on a double bed- the bumps below her probably random piles of clothes. The room was a mess, but look clean enough. The lights had been dimmed – for her sake, she reckoned, since even the dull lighting was burning her sore eyes. Next to the bed and connected to her left arm, which was strapped down to the bed frame with a wide Velcro band, was an intravenous drip.

She attempted to sit up, but a sharp stabbing in her chest made her bite her lip to keep from letting out a whimper of pain. Nick moved to assist her into a more comfortable upright position.

"Careful there – you fractured a rib, bruised several others and dislocated your right shoulder. I wouldn't move too much if I were you."

Santana squeezed her eyes shut as she breathed deeply for a moment, trying to adjust to the pain that seemed to be burning everywhere.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Nick kept whispering. "I'd administer more morphine but you've been out a long time and I don't think it's the best idea for you to stay under any longer."

She attempted a smile; just a little one to express her gratitude. "Water." Her parched throat managed to croak out.

From the corner of the room, an abnormally quiet Jeff sprung into action and poured some water from a kettle into a large green mug. Her placed a straw into it and silently handed the drink to her.

With some assistance from Nick, she managed to suck up the lukewarm fluid and quench her thirst. The warmth of the mug seeped through her fingers. It felt nice.

Another glass of water and mug of hot tea later, Santana felt much better. The three pills of painkillers Nick instructor her to swallow must have helped too, since the stabbing pain that accompanied every movement was beginning to diminish.

Gingerly, she cleared her throat and with a shaky voice, asked the question that had been eating away at her.

"He's gone, isn't he?"

Jeff averted his gaze, but Nick stared right into hers and nodded wordlessly. The three of them sat there in silence. Santana didn't know what to feel. Part of her wanted to shriek and bawl and swear at the world, but the greater portion just felt… numb. Lost. She's lost one of her closest friends, and it was all her fault.

Seconds passed. Minutes. Hours. She didn't know, and couldn't care enough to check. Nick and Jeff had moved around, entered the room and left again. She felt hands caress her face, tuck the sheets around her legs.

"…as in, _Sebastian_ Sebastian? No fucking way…"

That word. That name. Something clicked in Santana. She snapped her head up and listened in on Nick's conversation on the phone. The moment he saw that she was responsive again, however, quickly muttered a goodbye to whoever it was he was speaking to and hung up.

Warily, as if treading on eggshells, he approached Santana.

"Santana? Hey. Can I get you something to eat?"

She nodded. "Then," she said "I would like you to please fill me in on whatever shit is going on right now that I am not aware of."

* * *

><p>"Jesus, Quinn - it's a long story. I don't know how much I can tell you, I don't know how you will respond… hell, I don't even know where to begin!"<p>

Quinn stared steadily at Sebastian pacing around the room.

"Well… the beginning sounds like a good place to start-"

"You don't get it, Quinn. Because I don't even know when it started!"

"Okay calm down, Sebastian. How about you take a seat?"

Sebastian looked at the blonde actress, taking in her calm mannerism and how she was watching him with a curious, possibly even wary look in her eyes. What he didn't see, however, was judgment. Could he trust her to not be judgmental? He sighed and ran a hand over his face, the backs of his legs finding the bed and plonking his weight down on it.

"Basically, I'm not exactly an architect. I have…other ways, of earning my means. Not all of these methods are honest, and majority, if not all, illegal. I worked solo for a couple of years just after a left college and Blaine moved to LA, but eventually I realized that that wouldn't cut it and acquired a business partner." He smirked at his choice of words. "Small scams turned into big ones and soon we were pulling corporate-leveled stints."

Quinn's eyebrows knitted together. "So what you're saying is that you're a thief?"

"You could say so, yes. Thief, conman, imposter… all the same, really. So anyway, a few months ago, we attempted out biggest assignment ever. Let's just say that something went wrong, and now there's someone out there trying to kill me. Which leads us to here, in Sansbury Hall, four hours away from the city in secluded, countryside private land. No prizes for guessing why."

"You're on the run."

"I'm on the run."

"How much does Blaine know?"

"Everything. It's probably not my place to say, but I'm pretty sure there are some things about Blaine that he hasn't told you about. Secrets that simply aren't mine to share."

Quinn nodded, processing the information she had just heard. "What about your Partner? What happened to him? Why aren't there people out to kill him, too?"

Sebastian's face fell and he gazed out the window into the darkness. "I left her. I don't think these people knew about her involvement. She didn't need to be involved. She could go on and be safe without me."

'_She_'? The pieces of two stories, from two people clicked together perfectly. Realisation dawned on Quinn and she let out an audible gasp. They was simply two different sides of one story. "Oh my god." She whispered. "It's you."

* * *

><p>Sebastian was confused at Quinn's reaction to his recount. He'd prepared himself for her tuts of disapproval and rejection – the last he'd expected to see was her stunned, deer-in-headlights look. Her dumbfounded expression was almost comical- her already doll-like eyes the size of saucers and her lips parted in a perfect round 'o'.<p>

"Quinn? Earth to Quinn Fabray…"

"It's you! It's been you all along! Oh my god. Santana's out there trying to save you and all along you've been right under our noses! This can't be happening. It's freaky!" Quinn shrieked.

"You know Santana? Santana Lopez?" Sebastian was thoroughly confused. "Talk to me, Quinn. What do you mean by she's trying to 'save me'? What the hell is going on?"

Quinn ran a shaky hand through her hair, disrupting her perfectly sculpted hairdo and leaving her blonde locks disarrayed. She took a deep breath to steady herself before facing a very puzzled looking Sebastian.

"Santana… she's…" Quinn huffed in frustration, trying to find the right words to phrase her best friend's side of the predicament. "Look, Sebastian, you staring at me for answers really isn't helping."

_Not to mention_, Quinn thought, _that harmonica in your hands looks like it could be a very deadly weapon should you not like what you're about to hear._

* * *

><p>Santana's eyebrows knitted together as she tried to understand the user manual in front of her.<p>

"Damn it!" she swore, when the metal clasp on the lip clipped her flesh on the tip of her finger. Set gave up and set the pot back on the coffee maker with more force that necessary.

"Santana?" a concerned voice sounded from the lounge. There was some scrambling of movement and a dull thud followed by a muffled "oof" from whoever it was that had just tripped over the coffee table.

Jeff's blonde head appeared around the doorframe a moment later, his forehead vaguely pink.

"I'm fine," she replied "just trying to make myself a cup of coffee and your shmancy as fuck coffee machine refuses to cooperate."

Jeff chuckled light-heartedly. "You can blame Nick for all the fancy garbage around this house. I'm personally perfectly content with instant coffee granules but he insists on all this complicated, classy shit." He aligned the pot properly before pressing a few buttons and turning to face Santana. "But I do admit that this contraption in particular makes a mean cappuccino."

She smiled and Jeff grinned back. Then his face softened for a moment and Santana knew what was coming.

"How are you feeli-"

"Don't you dare ask." She scolded.

"But you were-"

"What did I say?"

Jeff grumbled before pretending to zip up his lips and toss the key over his shoulder. The gesture was so clichéd that she couldn't help but roll her eyes and smirk.

"I'm feeling much better, Jeff. Thank you. But I'm tired of you and Nick babying me around like I'm incapable of looking after myself. I appreciate everything you have done. You have no idea how grateful I am, but it's just not ME to depend on others. And after the whole thing with Puck…" She felt a lump rise in her throat as the painful thought came forefront in her mind.

Jeff nodded in understanding. Santana Lopez didn't show weakness. She was strong and independent. But still, she was fragile right now, what with having lost one of her closest friends and not knowing if the love of her life was alive or not. So he closed the distance between them and enveloped her in a tight hug, letting her tears soak through his t-shirt.

He thought back to the previous night when Nick and him had had to break the news of Puck's death to the Latina. She had been incredibly shaken, but seeing as she was probably there when the bullet found his occipital lobe, accepted the fact that he was gone relatively calmly.

What had really made her snap was when her memories had gradually returned, and she remembered Gareth Marsen's words to her over the phone. "_One of the most wanted con artists of all time_". He knew. Their enemy knew about Santana's secret, which also meant that he most certainly knew by now the identity of the imposter. It was only a matter of time before he found him.

Gareth Marsen had identified his next target; and his name was Sebastian Smythe.

* * *

><p>Quinn had been right to ask Sebastian to sit down across the room, because when she finished telling her side of the story, he flung the harmonica with such force that it left a small dent in the wooden door before falling to the ground, surprisingly still in one piece.<p>

"Jesus Christ, Sebastian, calm down!"

He was furiously pacing around the carpet and pulling at his hair in vexation.

"What the hell was she thinking? I left, so she could move on and be safe, not so she could chase after me and put herself in even more danger!" Sebastian raged, his voice at an uncomfortably high volume for such a small space. "These bastards coming after me know their work, now that she's gone ahead and gotten herself involved they would have singled her out as their target as well! Fuck!"

There was a moment of tense silence in the room as Sebastian sat on the edge of his bed with his head cradled in his hands, as if trying to hold his own thoughts together. Quinn sat across the room, her eyes transfixed on the ground as she gave him a moment to calm himself.

"She did it" she said quietly "because she loves you."

At her words, Sebastian raised his head and Quinn could see that behind the thick-framed glasses, there was pure anguish is his green eyes. Then she caught a glimpse of acceptance, and for a fraction of a second, a glimmer of hope.

* * *

><p>"Nick, for the last time, .fine." She grumbled, pushing his hands away as he tried to feel her forehead for an indication of her temperature. "Now get your pompous med school ass away from me."<p>

"You don't understand, Santana. You've been asleep for the better part of the last twenty four hours and refuse to keep your IV Drip in. You might be suffering from dehydration!"

"Oh for Christ's sake. I'm FINE. JEFF! Help me out here!"

Jeff laughed and filled a large glass of water, bringing to over to where Santana was seated on the couch, struggling to keep a persistent Nick away. Once his roommate was in his "Doctor mode", it was really difficult to get him to leave his 'patient' alone.

"Hey, hey Doc, you suspect dehydration, right? Well I may not be a doctor but last I checked, this good old H2O here's the right treatment."

Santana jumped at the opportunity to get him away. "Yeah! Hand it over, Jeff." She gulped down the entire glass at one go. "Ah! I'm feeling a million times better now. Thank you, Nurse Jeff."

Nick glared at the two Cheshire grins and was about to retort when his phone started ringing. He gave his roommate and houseguest a warning glance to be quiet while he went to the other room to answer the call for more privacy.

Santana and Jeff's sniggers were cut off abruptly when Nick reentered the lounge, his face drained of colour and his features tense. His arm was extended as he held out the phone to Santana.

"It's for you."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>: *Cliffhanger ending - cue evil laughter* Muahahahahaha..._

_(If you are confuzzled at any point, do feel free to ask. )_

_I have a challenge for you lovely people... can we get the number of reviews up to the nice number 100? (:_

_You guys are the best._


	14. Chapter 12

**_Author's Note: _**_Once again, thanks for the reviews guys! Keep 'em coming! (:_

* * *

><p><strong>Thick as Thieves<strong>

Chapter 12 - The Proposition 

"H-hello?"

There was nothing but silence on the other end of the line.

"Hello?" She repeated.

There was fumbling and what sounded like shuffling of paper. "Hello? Sorry bout that. Just give me a moment."

Oh. It certainly wasn't the voice she had been expecting, but she accepted it all the same with mild confusion. He must have another update for her.

"Sure thing, Artie. What's up?"

"I'm not sure you're going to like what you're about to hear, San, so I'm just gonna go straight into it, okay? Ripping off the band aid and what not."

"Yeah, of course. Just get it over and done with."

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "Just a few moments ago I received an unnamed, coded video file from untraceable anonymous sender. I almost deleted it, thinking it was spam mail, but then the code number caught my eye. It looked familiar, so I ran some tests. The number matched the registration number of the pager that you took from Sexton's study, which Nick mailed over to me yesterday."

Santana would have felt an odd sense of triumph at having lifted something useful had her heart not been pounding with nervous anticipation of the bad news to come.

"It was a message." Artie continued, his voice tense. "A recorded video message from Marsen himself."

Silence. "And…?" Santana prompted.

"Look, I'll forward it to you, okay? Give me a few minutes."

"Okay."

As she waited, her mind racing, it took her several seconds to realize that in addition to the clicking of Artie's computer mouse, there was also the incessant beeping of an incoming call. "Artie? I've got an incoming call. I'll put you on hold for a bit."

"Mmhmm." Came the non-committal reply. "Go for it. This is taking a while."

Tapping the flash button, Santana held the device to her ear again. "Hello?" she said.

The only sound she heard on the other end was a shaky breath exhalation.

She was getting frustrated. People really needed to learn to speak up over the phone.

"Who is this?" She asked, sounding slightly more venomous than she'd intended.

The line went dead. Annoyed, she hit flash again and went back to the call with Artie. Just in time, too, for not five seconds after returning to the call, Artie's voice sounded just as the laptop in front of her sounded with a new message.

"Done."

"Thank you." She muttered quickly, already opening the file and anxious to hear what the fucking asshole who murdered her best friend had to say.

"Um… Santana? Don't do anything stupid, okay?"

* * *

><p>Sebastian handed the phone back to Quinn and buried his face in his hands again. Quinn glared at the defeated figure that was her husband's best friend with equal measures of concern and annoyance.<p>

"All that, and you couldn't choke out ONE word?"

"You don't get it," he snapped "it's not that simple."

Anger flared through Quinn momentarily. After all that this man had put her best friend through, the very least he could do was call Santana so she at least knew that he was still alive. It had taken Quinn nearly an hour to convince Sebastian to speak to Santana, but once she had dialed Nick's number for him, the coward got cold feet and chickened out.

"What, may I ask, is so difficult about just saying "Hi, Santana, it's Sebastian. I'm just calling to say I'm still alive. Goodbye."? Just man up and grow a pair! Honestly. It's not that hard. She's been worried sick about you for months and you can't even give her the relief of knowing your body isn't decomposing somewhere in a shallow grave? I expected more out of you, Sebastian. I've always thought highly of you as a perfect gentleman but clearly you're no-"

"I can't fucking talk to her, because the second that I do, I won't be able to stop myself from running right back, okay?" he raged "Do you know how much it hurt just to hear her voice after all this time? Just to hear her say "hello"? It's already taking all I have to keep myself away. I'd happily die if it meant I could see her one more time. But that will just lure these fucking assholes right to her doorstep!"

He shut his eyes and took a breath to calm himself.

"So yes - I AM a coward. I don't have the courage to tell her the truth myself, because I won't have the strength to keep myself away. I didn't even have the courage to tell her how much I love her and now it's too late."

Quinn had never seen Sebastian Smythe so vulnerable. In all her years of knowing him, he was always confident, self-assured and collected, to the point that some considered arrogance and cockiness. But now, he looked an absolutely wreck. He'd lost weight since the last time she'd seen him, his skin pale and sallow, lifeless sea-green eyes currently glistening with unshed tears. The separation had been taking its toll on him as much as it had on Santana.

Quinn felt incredibly guilty now that she understood. She crossed the space between them and wrapped her slender arms around Sebastian. When he made no effort to push her off, she moved in closer and pulled him against her chest, tucking her chin into the crook of his neck. She rubbed soothing circles on his back and whispered "I'm sorry."

They both knew that that apology was for so much more than just her harsh words.

* * *

><p>"Greetings, friends" the face spoke all too pleasantly, glacier blue eyes twinkling mischievously "If you are watching this video now instead of just having deleted it right away when you received the file, I'd know for sure that this has reached the right people.<p>

"I understand that we have had a little bit of conflict between our interests lately, and I wanted to explain my actions. You see, I'm not a bad guy. All I'm trying to do here, is my job. I know that might be a hard concept for you to grasp, seeing as employment has never been a consideration to any of you, so let me break it down for you: I kill Sebastian, I get paid. Full stop.

"Oh that's right… did I forget to mention that I know who I'm after now? Not only do I know who my target is - wait for it - here's the best part." He picked a manila envelope and flipped casually through it's contents, his fingers skimming through the pages before selecting one to hold up to the camera. "Aha. There we go."

Santana let out an audible gasp.

"I already have him."

* * *

><p>Summer was whining at the backyard door. Blaine stifled a yawn as he dragged his slippered feet across the dining room floor, his bath robe hanging loosely around his shoulders and the undone belt dragging behind him.<p>

"I'm coming, I'm coming." He unlocked and slid open the sliding glass door.

The dog sped out into the late morning sunlight to relieve herself. Blaine stepped out into the sunlight himself, enjoying the way it warmed his skin. He checked his phone and saw two new messages from Quinn.

_I'm judging the school talent show tonight! Makes me think of the videos Rachel showed me of you performing in your high school productions. You are BY FAR the greatest Tony I've seen (: I'm so jealous of whoever played your Maria. And have I told you how I fell in love with you because of the Harry Potter Musical you composed with the Starkids? (; I miss you, as I have from the moment you dropped me off at the airport. Please remember to shut the fridge properly and no, cheese whiz is not a staple food. I love you (:_

The heartfelt message warmed his heart and Blaine couldn't fight the huge grin that painted his face. The second message was sent several hours later. His thick eyebrows furrowed together as he read the short message.

_Babe, please call me when you see this. No matter the time. It's important. I love you._

The tones of the two messages were so drastically different that he immediately sensed the urgency, and possible danger, of the second message. His thumb hovered over the call button, before deciding that it was probably wiser to make the call in the privacy of the house rather than in the middle of his back lawn.

"Summer!" He whistled. "Here, girl!"

He waited impatiently for the jingle of tags on the retriever's collar that signaled her approach, but heard nothing but birds chirping happily from the trees. "Summer!" No response.

Annoyed, Blaine walked back into the house and emptied some dog biscuits into Summer's food bowl. When there was still no signs of the dog returning, he started to get a little suspicious. Typically, the rattle of the kibble in her metal dish would make the dog drop whatever it was she was doing and come running to sit in front of him to await further commands for the promise of food.

Blaine ventured out into the yard, calling out the dog's name. His phone began vibrating in his hands as the screen lit up with a new message from an unknown sender.

_I hope you enjoy your stay with us, Mr. Anderson - G.M._

He felt the pinprick of the dart entering the flesh of his neck, and a glimpse of the clear blue sky littered with fluffy clouds before everything went black.

* * *

><p>"Damn it, Blaine. PICK UP!" Quinn growled in frustration as she tapped the call button for what felt like the hundredth time as she paced around the room. She heard movement from the other side of the front door and froze. Desperately, she glanced around the space for somewhere to hide before…<p>

The door flew open and a teenage boy with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes marched into the room.

"Toby, where are you, you son of a bi-" he stopped dead in his tracks when he locked eyes with the blonde actress standing in the middle of his dorm room.

Before he could say anything, a hand covered his mouth from behind and someone kicked the door behind them shut. Taken by complete surprise, Benji's eyes bugged out of their sockets for a fraction of a second before he prepared to apply some form of self defense against his attacker. However, just as he raised his arm to karate chop the offender, he found himself face to face with his room mate, who was holding his index finger in front of his own lips in the universal gesture for "remain silent".

Eyes wide, he nodded and Toby released his hold on him.

"What's Quinn Fabray – THE Quinn Fabray doing in here?" He blurted out. "Everyone's looking for you in a panic, Ms. Fabray. It's an honour, by the way, and might I say you look far more gorgeous in the flesh, if that were even possible. I'm Benji. Benji Westmore. I'm a huge fan and-" an idea popped into his mind "Toby, if you kidnapped her, I swear to god-"

"What? No! Nothing of the sort!" Toby was quick to brush off "It's a long story. She's an old friend."

"Is THAT why you won the competition tonight? Ugh, I KNEW it was rigged. You were fabulous though, mate. STELLAR performance. You deserved that title fair and square. Too bad you weren't there to receive the award in person from Ms. Fabray as promised but seeing as she's here it doesn't really matter does it." Benji smirked, oblivious to the two exasperated faces staring at him. "You should have seen the look on Tom Maclean's face when they announced you won though. I swear, the tosser looked so jealous he could have been the green-eyed beast himself. Haha. Your eyes are green. What a coincidence…"

"Honestly, do you EVER stop talking?" Toby exclaimed. "Look, Benji, I've gotta talk to Quinn about something important, so please, PLEASE just be quiet for just a while and try not to eavesdrop. Thank you."

Without giving him a chance to respond, Toby grabbed on to Quinn Fabray's arm and gently tugged her to the far corner of the room. The two were in a heated discussion over something; obviously nothing too pleasant because they were both frowning and Quinn's arms began flailing and gesturing wildly with increasing gusto.

Benji tried not to eavesdrop. He honestly tried. But it wasn't a large room and despite them talking in hushed voices, he could make out parts of the dialogue. He considered respecting his room mate's privacy and listening to his iPod with his earphones on to drown out the sound, but curiosity got the better of him and he decided against it. Come on, his room mate talking seriously with an internationally famous Hollywood star? Not everyday that happened. So he lay down on his bed, picked up his CFC autographed soccer ball and tossed it repeatedly up in the air as he listened in, taking in whatever bits of the conversation he could.

Something sounded off. _Toby _sounded off. Benji pondered over this for a moment before it registered with him. His room mate sounded so different, because he sounded completely American. Not a trace of the English accent that he was completely used to.

He sat upright, no longer caring that it was completely obvious that he was listening in. Quinn and Toby didn't even notice, though – they were far too absorbed in their discussion. Benji heard mentions of 'running' and 'kidnap' and if his ears didn't deceive him, something along the lines of 'murder' and 'assassins'. There was a much greater level of swearing now and he had a gut feeling that something big was going on. Like action movie big.

"What's going on, guys?"

Silence. Quinn and Toby looked at Benji before exchanging a glance. Toby seemed to nod infinitesimally, and Quinn sighed in what looked like defeat before nodding towards the teenager.

Toby sat down in front of Benji and took a deep breath before saying, in a purely American accent: "What I'm about to tell you stays in this room, alright? I'm trusting you with this information, because I feel you can handle it and I see you as a good friend; but if it gets out I am literally a dead man. My name isn't Toby Larson. It's Sebastian Smythe."

* * *

><p>"There's your partner, Santana. One purpose of this video was to let you know that your darling Sebastian is dead. So give up. You're never going to find him.<p>

"Another reason for this video is to make a proposition to you. Look, I admire your work. You are majorly skilled in the field of disguise, or as your dear friend… Mike I believe his name is? – calls it, 'undercovery'" Gareth laughed light-heartedly. "Charming, really."

"And Artie. Oh Artie. So, so very talented indeed. I don't have enough fingers to list off all the parts he's played in this mission to hunt down your darling Sebastian. From recovering those lost files, analyzing and refining the stolen data, to the best yet – hacking into the fucking CIA system to get you in, Santana. Wow. I applaud you, good sir.

"I apologise for having had to rid off the Supervisor, by the way." he sounded anything but apologetic "He was fodder that got in the way. Of absolutely no use to me; so he had to go. No hard feelings.

"You three, on the other hand – Santana, Artie and Mike – I want you to join me in my… organization. My business...my company.. whatever you want to call it, really. Nick and Jeff are more than welcome to tag along if they wish - they seem like fun guys.

"Take as long as you need to consider my offer. I understand that this is a decision that will take time. However, I give you my word that we will work great together as a team. All of us. I trust Artie and/or Mike will find a way to get hold of me should you have further queries regarding this proposal." he seemed amused by this. "Until then, _adieu_."

The screen faded to black as the video ended. Santana's fists were clenched so tightly that her fingernails dug deep into her palms, drawing blood at some points.

God, she hated that motherfucker. All she wanted to do was punch his nose back into the brain residing in his jetblack-haired head. She snarled angrily at the blank screen and punched Artie's phone number into her mobile.

* * *

><p>"I'm so, so sorry about Sebastian, Santana. We tried our best and it didn't work-"<p>

"Is it safe to talk?"

"Now it is. I destroyed the bug he had installed in our phone systems and tripled the security on all calls going through any of our numbers. So yes, it's safe to share information now."

"Artie, listen to me. I want you to do something." Santana's hurried voice urged. That was strange- she didn't sound sad at all, just plain furious and maybe even a little nervous. "I want you to open up the video."

"Santana… are you okay? You're taking the news of Sebastian's death rather strangely…"

"That's what I wanted to ask you about. Open the video – is it open?"

_'The poor girl's mind must have snapped - who the hell would want to see that again?'_ Artie thought '_the least I could do is humour her bizarre request.'_

"Yupp. It is now."

"Good. I want you to jump to the part where he's showing us the photographed image of Seb's body. Have you found it?"

Artie cringed at the bloody mess of the body in the photo. "Yeah."

"Freeze that image. Can you zoom in on the left arm? And try and get the graphic sharper, please."

Artie did as he was asked. Funnily enough, he found himself grateful for the expensive, high megapixel devices that Gareth Marsen used. Toggling a few controls on the imaging software, Artie was able to get a fairly clear zoom of the body, even though it was a video capture of a printed photograph.

Sebastian's body was bloody and bruised, his bare chest painted in an array of red, purple and blue blossoms. His handsome face was beaten beyond recognition… wait, what?

Though Artie had never met the man in person before, he had seen enough photos of him in the past few weeks to know exactly what the guy looked like, right down to the last freckle.

Artie bolted upright in his seat. He understood what Santana was on about now. He studied the corpse more closely. The figure looked to be around the right height and build, though the curled up foetal position would have masked any obvious differences in physique. He had the same high cheekbones and tapered face shape of Sebastian, but again, any significant differences in features would have been concealed by the horrid swelling and bruising. His hair looked like it would have been the right colour if not for the blood matted in it.

The body in the photo might very well have been Sebastian's, but there was also a high possibility that it wasn't. There was no way to know for sure, unless there was something distinctive to Sebastian - a birth mark, a scar, a tattoo…

"Artie? Are you still there?" The impatience and anxiety in Santana's voice was evident.

"Yeah. Left inner arm, you say?"

"Yes. do you see?"

Artie shifted the focus of the zooming tool to the requested anatomy, viewing the area from as many angles as the screen shot allowed. "Nothing but a few light bruises."

"Exactly. You've told me everything I need, Artie. Thank you so much." Santana was nearly sobbing in relief.

"It wasn't him, was it?" Artie asked.

"No." her sobs had escalated to full on tears now. "No, it wasn't."

* * *

><p>Santana's tears of relief had soaked through both layers of Jeff's hoodie and T-shirt. She found the blonde's embrace strangely comforting, like one of a brother she never had. She pulled away and kissed the tattoo inscription on her left inner arm. The very same inscription which had an identical twin present on the left arm of Sebastian Smythe.<p>

She felt significantly better. Sure, her discovery didn't prove that Sebastian was alive, but the fact that Marsen had had to resort to that level of trickery to throw them off his tracks meant that there was incredibly high possibility that the man had no idea where his target was himself.

Sebastian was tough. He was clever. Santana was confident that he was surviving out there, restoring within her a renewed sense of hope.

She'd all but forgotten Marsen's offer – she hadn't really been listening to the rest of the video after she saw the photo of the body anyway, all she was thinking of was what looked off about that image of 'Sebastian' and white rage burning around the edges of her vision. But then she received a new message from Artie, flagged with an URGENT sign. She double-clicked the file to play the video.

Gareth Marsen's face appeared once again and Santana's mind immediately jumped into fantasies of causing the man as much pain as possible. Only this time, she felt a sensation of smugness for having outsmarted the asshole.

"Hello once again. This is just a little incentive that I thought might contribute towards your consideration of my previous offer that might entice a different decision."

The screen switched. It was the live video feed of what looked like an interrogation room, bare apart from four chairs. Strapped to those four chairs by their waists, wrists and ankles were four people. Four unmistakable people.

The smirk on Santana's face vanished.

Blaine.

Artie's fiancée, Brittany.

Mike's wife, Tina.

Nick's younger half-sister, Charlotte.

"Join forces with me, and I throw in their freedom as a bonus! After all, I'm nothing if not generous." He chuckled. "Have a lovely evening."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's note<strong>: What did you think? I know quite a lot happened in this chapter so I hope the end result wasn't too confusing. I'm sorry to be depriving you all of face-to-face Sebtana moments the past few chapters(those will come,I promise!), but for now, I'm hoping that depicting how the separation is affecting both of them is enough to show just how strong the bond between the characters is._

_I have a question: I'm curious as to whether there are any actors/celebrities in particular that you lovelies picture the OC's as? Especially for the baddie Gareth Marsen. I know I have provided some ideas for a few of the characters previously but I realised I haven't revealed who I picture as this guy! I'm interested to know what you all think ._

_Reviews and PM's are always welcome and loved (: Thanks for reading!_


	15. Chapter 13

_**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! I am so, so sorry that it's taken so long for this update... But I'm kinda, sorta failing classes right now and needed some time to get my stuff sorted out._

_And I know, this Chapter is a little shorter than usual, but I just wanted to post something for you lovely readers. Contrary to your probable beliefs, I do not, in fact, enjoy leaving you hanging ;)_

_So enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Thick as Thieves<strong>

**Chapter 13 – The Captives**

Benji stared between Quinn and Sebastian, an unreadable expression on his oval face. This was what worried Sebastian – Benji was always incredibly easy to read, seeing as he was never afraid to voice his opinions and make his thoughts and presence known.

"Um… Benji? Buddy? How are you holding up?"

"So let me get this straight." Benji listed off his fingers "You're an American named Sebastian Smythe, whose parents sent you to boarding school at Eton because you got expelled from your old school in Florida... But you found out that your girlfriend, the _married_ Quinn Fabray, was filming her new movie out here in Sansbury so you hacked your father's email to have you sent here instead?"

He fived a blue gaze on them and both figures nodded, perhaps a tad bit too enthusiastically.

"I didn't tell you sooner because… well, I couldn't. Quinn and I are absolutely top secret. No one can find out, especially not her husband."

Benji's gaze didn't waver. Finally, his features shifted. "Blaine Anderson? THE Blaine Anderson, and you cheat on him with HIM?"

"Um…" Quinn chewed on her lower lip, her eyes burning a hole in the floor.

Then Benji laughed. "Good on ya, Buddy!" He exclaimed, clapping Sebastian on the back. Sebastian and Quinn chortled along uneasily, wrapping their arms around one another's waists just to keep up the act. For added effect, Sebastian pressed his lips to Quinn's cheek and Benji pretended to gag into his hand.

"I don't believe it." Benji continued to mumble under his breath, his voice still airy with laughter.

"Hey Benji, you won't tell, right? It's our secret?"

"Of course," his friend replied with a smile, and Sebastian felt comfortable enough to trust him. "I'll leave you to it and go get some food. And Tob- Sebastian… keep it PG in here, okay?" He grinned impishly and ducked out of the way of the pillow Sebastian had launched at his head.

* * *

><p>Quinn huffed out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding when the door clicked back shut. Slightly awkwardly, she gently made to ease herself out of her and Sebastian's embrace. Realising that his arms were still wrapped around torso, he quickly released her and stepped away, clearing his throat self-consciously.<p>

Their embrace wasn't really awkward – it wasn't as if they had never exchanged friendly hugs and platonic pecks on the cheek whenever Sebastian and Blaine had get-togethers. They had always gotten along anyway. But after the story Sebastian had just fabricated (Quinn's eyes had widened at his lie to Benji), it felt weird.

He met Quinn's gaze and the two burst out laughing at the absurdity of their whole situation.

They laughed. And laughed. It felt so wrong to be laughing when things were so bleak, but at the moment, neither of them cared. So they laughed even more, till both their sides burned.

The laughter ceased just as suddenly as it had started. Quinn straightened from where she had her face buried in the pillow and tucked her hair behind her ear. Sebastian got off his back where he had been lying on the carpet, rocking back and forth.

She rested a hand on his shoulder for a few brief seconds, then strode off towards the bathroom whilst checking her phone.

* * *

><p>A ghost of a smile still on his lips, Sebastian took a moment to think. The room sounded eerily quiet after that bout of hysterics. He hated the lie he had made up for Benji; that would make him now think poorly of Quinn. Quinn belonged to Blaine. No one who had ever known and seen the couple with their own eyes could deny that they weren't made for each other. It wasn't so much how good they looked together, but rather who they were around each other. Sebastian absolutely hated what he had had to do to keep his friend Benji safe from the truth, at the expense of his other close friend's reputation.<p>

Thankfully, Quinn understood and accepted it. They were both actors; a mask and white lies were a part of life. A life full of obstacles that would require them making sacrifices to keep their loved ones safe.

* * *

><p>Santana didn't know how to react. Then chaos struck.<p>

She wasn't sure who to restrain, so she just grabbed on to the first person she could. Amidst the jumble and tangle of limbs, she managed to yell out a command for everyone to calm the fuck down.

The shrieks and growls silenced, reduces to a soft, anguished whimpering coming from one of the bodies in the pile. Santana extricated herself from the jumble, shakily getting on her arms and knees and crawling over to Nick's hunched figure on the ground, his back gently heaving with poorly concealed sobs. Jeff had his head bowed, rubbing soothing circles on to his best friend's back.

"Nick…" she started.

"He took her." He said quietly. "He took her."

"I'm so sorr-"

"HE TOOK HER!" Nick bellowed, his voice so broken and angry that Santana flinched. He lifted his head sharply to look at her, his normally kind brown eyes now full of hatred and pain. "This is all your fault."

She couldn't find her voice.

"You did this," he continued relentlessly "if not for you, she'd be safe."

She felt a tear roll down her cheek at his words, the truth and agony behind each accusation almost tangible; cutting, slicing shredding at her until his pain became hers.

"Nick." Jeff piped in warily.

"We were fine before. Lottie had nothing to do with any of this." The brunette rambled "Then you had to come be a hero and fucked everything up and now… now…" his voice trailed off.

"Nick." Jeff repeated. Quietly. Deadly.

She had never heard him sound this way before. Through the tears flowing freely down her cheeks, Santana's eyes met Jeff's. They were livid, merciless; the crystal blue colder than ice.

She surprised herself when her terror faded as pure fury took its place. Not directed at Jeff, no. Never at Jeff. But lacking his ever-present warmth, those blue eyes resembled someone else's.

Someone she desperately wanted to torture and kill in the most agonizing way possible with her own bare hands.

* * *

><p>"Hey, hey. Look at me. Shhhh…"<p>

The girl of about seventeen sobbed quietly with her head bowed, a curtain of mahogany hair falling around her face.

"Listen. We're gonna be okay." His voice choked up on that last word.

Blaine took several deep breaths to regain his composure. When he raised his head back to his right, he found that the girl was finally meeting his gaze.

Her hazel eyes held his intensely; unwaveringly.

"I'm a huge fan of you and your music. I've always wanted to meet you." She finally spoke with a humourless, bitter laugh "I just never in my wildest dreams imagined it'd be under such conditions."

Blaine smiled in spite of the tense situation. "It's always nice meeting a fan. I consider you all my friends, you know. I wish I could thank more of you in person but it's so hard. It's an honour to meet you…?"

"Charlotte."

"It's an honour to meet you, Charlotte. I'm Blaine."

She tilted her head to the side, rolled her eyes and gave him a deadpanned look. "I know." She said mockingly. They smiled at each other. "I could list your full biography and discography, but that would probably be a little creepy, wouldn't it?" she added.

"Just a tad, I guess." Blaine shrugged, teasing light-heartedly "It's always just a bit odd when someone else knows my life story better than I do."

"I'd imagine it would be. And the honour's mine."

It then seemed as if reality came crashing down and the pair began to realize just how dire their situation was.

To Blaine's left was a slender blonde, and on the left of her a young Asian woman. The blonde began to stir and awaken, a soft groan leaving her thin lips.

"Wha – What happened?"

She opened her eyes, and began panicking as she tried in vain to tug her arm free from where it was bound to the chair.

Blaine's attempts to soothe her were cut off by her alarmed shouts.

"Where am I?"

"I don't know. But you have to try and relax." Blaine tried his best to keep his voice calm and steady, and was surprised to find that it cooperated. "Hey, hey… Look at me." Baby blue eyes met his. "What's your name? I'm Blaine."

Her eyes widened. "I know you! You're that hobbit that sings like on the radio! The one that sounds like rainbows and unicorns!"

Blaine and Charlotte exchange confused glances, the latter shrugging her shoulders and fixing her attention back on the blonde.

"That's the one! Hi. I'm Charlotte. And you are…"

The woman still had an awestruck look on her face as she unashamedly scanned Blaine's face, completely oblivious to the implied question.

"Your eyebrows look like Doritos."

"Um… pardon?"

"I'm Brittany."

"Well hello, Brittany. As we said earlier, I'm Blaine and this is Charlotte. We're just as lost as you are… do you recall anything before waking up here?"

Brittany's eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"I was at my dance school, locking up. It's the grand opening in two days, you see – Oh! How long have I been asleep?"

"I'm not sure either, I'm afraid. Whoever it is has us now drugged me and I have no idea what they used."

"Which is why we need you to finish your story, Brittany. It might help us find out." Charlotte added.

"Okay. Well anyway. I had just gone in that afternoon to finish glueing the paper fish onto the blue wall and was locking up to leave… then my phone started ringing and everything went black. I do hope the fish didn't drown."

Blaine would have laughed at Charlotte's expression if things hadn't been so bleak.

"Uh… Okay. I was walking from the library back to my dorm from the library and I got a text message. Next thing I know, I was strapped to this bloody chair."

"Well I was taken from my own backyard. Literally. But where the hell are we?"

The three of them exchanged looks.

Charlotte broke the silence. "I was taken from New York…"

"I was in San Francisco."

"Pasadena."

"I was in Vegas with my husband. He was at work when I blacked out." A fourth voice pitched in. Three faces turned to face its owner. "I'm Tina, by the way."

"Charlotte, Blaine and Brittany." Blaine introduced with a nod of his head towards the person who's name he was saying. "It's nice meeting yo-"

"Yeah yeah yeah now everyone's all nicely acquainted, let's all share some cookies and do a little jig, eh?" the teenage girl exclaimed sarcastically.

"Charlotte." Blaine chided.

"She's right. We shouldn't waste any time." Tina said with a wry grimace "For one, we don't even know how much of THAT we have left."

"Huh." Said Brittany suddenly, her innocent, almost child-like face scrunched up in concentration. "The White Rabbit must be near."

Blaine, Charlotte and Tina were all unsure of how to respond.

"Does no one else hear the tick-tock of his pocket watch?"

* * *

><p><em>The first time she had seen the true Sebastian, was during an incident she doesn't think she will ever be capable of forgetting.<em>

_It was a cool Autumn day, and the crisp leaves crunched beneath their sneakers as they trudged through the park. They were fully aware of the suspicious eyes following them. Her hand was folded into the comfortable warmth of his, his fingertips tracing soothing circles on the back of her hand beneath her coat sleeve._

_Every now and then, she felt the gentle pressure of a reassuring squeeze on her palm, which she reciprocated. This was their silent way of communicating that all was well; that they were blending in with the rest of the lovestruck couples in the park and were impossible to identify as a pair of notorious con artists on the prowl for their next target._

_They neared a fountain; the scent of purity associated with fresh spring water was in the air. A little girl was seated on the wide edge, her legs dangling happily inches above the bubbling water. A brown and pink coat was buttoned up around her, a rainbow striped beanie tugged low over her ears._

_Santana remembered how the girl had pulled off her mittens; placing them carefully next to her while she reached down to run her stubby fingers through the cool, clean water. Santana had found herself mesmerized by the way the girl's grey eyes had lit up as she watched the ripples of water appear from beneath her fingertips. A small giggle left her mouth, bubbly and sparkling in the way only a child's laughter could manage._

_A blossom fell from a nearby plant onto the surface of the water within her reach. Her eyes wide, the girl delicately cradled the white flower in her tiny hands and ran off towards a lady pushing a stroller. The baby in the stroller was wailing and the lady looked incredibly annoyed. Seeing her mother upset, the little girl took advantage of her bending over the stroller to stand on her tiptoes and weave the flower into her mother's braid._

_This small, innocent gesture had warmed Santana's heart, and when she finally tore her eyes away from the exchange, she looked up at the face of her partner._

_His lips were pressed together into a thin line, the muscles in his jaw strained. She was confused and vaguely appalled by this response – how could the beauty of a child's good heart induce such a reaction? A loud shout from where the mother stood with the stroller and girl by the fountain made Santana match Sebastian's line of vision, and the scene before her made her partner's reaction make perfect sense._

_A gust of wind had blown the mittens into the water. The mother was yelling mercilessly at her daughter while the girl stood silently, tears gently rolling down her rosy cheeks. Santana watched in horror as the lady drew her hand back and struck the little girl sharply on the back of her head._

_Before she could huff in anger of the unjustified abuse, however, she felt movement beside her._

_Sebastian had tugged his hand out of her grasp and was marching towards the fountain with a determined stride, anger radiating out of him in intangible, dangerous waves._

_When his legs touched the sides of the water feauture, he rolled up his sleeves and after propping himself up, reached out across the water and gathered both purple mittens into his hand. He gently wrung them out and shook the water from them as he made his way over to the lady and her little daughter._

_Too stunned and curious to move, Santana watched from afar as Sebastian crouched down to the girls level and folded the damp mittens in her hand. He wiped away her tears with a gentle hand, whispering something in her ear that had made the girl giggle and nod happily. The girl ran off towards the playground and Sebastian straightened up formally to face the mother, who did not look the slightest bit pleased at this intrusive stranger's uncalled-for interruption. Before she could say anything, however, he had held out a hand and proceeded to speak, his body language dripping with hostility._

_Santana could only imagine the words exchanged between the two, but it had ended with a very red-faced mother pushing a stroller through the park, her daughter with the rainbow hat and pink leggings skipping beside her with a newly-acquired daisy chain around her wrist._

_The way she had seen the normally 'heartless' Sebastian stand up for an innocent child that day had changed everything about the way she saw him._

* * *

><p>The hinge of the door squeaked slightly as it opened and shut. Santana snapped out of her daydream to see Jeff seat himself next to her on the couch. She gave herself a mental kick when she found herself unconsciously moving slightly away from the blonde.<p>

This was Jeff. Jeff who let her soak his shirts with her tears. Jeff who would never hurt her. So to compensate, she scooted over to close up the space between them and rest her head on his shoulder. In terms of physique, Jeff reminder her so much of Sebastian- tall, lean and lanky, with a toned dancers' musculature. But at the same time, they couldn't be more different.

The blonde sighed and absently wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"She's pretty much my sister too, you know." He stated simply. "Nick and Charlotte and just about all the family I have.

"His mom and my mom were best friends. We practically grew up together. Shared a crib and what not. When we were both about five, our moms were returning from a girls' night and got into a car crash.

"My Dad was never much of a Dad to begin with – but after Mom died he sort of lost himself and turned to alcohol. I spent more time at Nick's house than my own, anyway – I always felt more welcome there. I haven't heard from my father in years.

"Nick's Dad eventually remarried, and a year and a half later, Charlotte was born. He was incredibly close to his stepmom, but we lost her to cancer when Lottie was thirteen.

"It's always been the three of us since."

Santana was lost for words. Behind the happy smiles and carefree laughter, her friend Jeff came from a tragic past. And Nick… Oh Nick. If she thought what she was going through with Blaine being captive was tough, she could scarcely bear to even imagine what it must be like for him. Or Artie. Or Mike.

"He didn't mean it- all those things he said. He's just distraught. I know his pain too; I want Lottie out of there just as much as he does."

Santana hummed in reply and gave Jeff a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you," she said. "For being honest with me."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>: There's so much more to come, guys! I'm getting really excited (: Thank you a million for reading and as always, please do hit up the COmments and Review section._

_Much Love!_


	16. Chapter 14

**Thick as Thieves**

Chapter 14

* * *

><p>Benji had returned with some microwaveable pies and three bottles of orange juice. He apologized profusely to Quinn for not having anything classier to serve her, but she insisted that it was fine and the teenager's cheeks flushed pink when she reached out to pat his arm as a sign of gratitude.<p>

When they were done eating in a comfortable silence, Benji announced that Sebastian had to go meet the Principal since proper congratulations were in order. Sebastian had been hesitant to leave Quinn alone, but she adamantly told him that she was fine with Benji.

The door shut behind Sebastian's tall form, and the British Teenager and the American Celebrity were alone in the ringing silence.

The latter was the first to break the quiet.

"Benjamin, I just wanted to say how grateful I am that you are helping to keep my relationship with Sebastian secret. You have no idea how much it means to me." She said with an earnest tone perfected from years of acting classes.

He simply mumbled a "thanks" in response. This was odd- even though she hadn't known him for very long (literally several hours), Quinn had learnt that Benji Westmore was one of those people that always, always had something to contribute to a conversation.

Desperately trying to fill the strained silence, Quinn continued. "You know, you remind me so much of my husband, Blaine, sometimes."

At being compared to one of his musical idols, the teenager couldn't help but raise his head in interest. "How so?" he questioned steadily.

Pleased with the response, Quinn smiled. "I don't know… I think it's your smile. The way your whole face lights up and makes you look like a child on Christmas morning. It's so much like Blaine's. He's optimistic, lively, kind and romantic. Unfathomably talented and ridiculously charming. That's why I fell for him, you know. He's passionate. About everything in life. Heck, he's passionate about life itself! He completes me. There's no other way to put it."

"Oh yeah? Then where does Tob – Sebastian. Where does Sebastian fit into all this, Quinn?"

Taken aback by the harshness of his voice, Quinn was rendered speechless. Benji took the opportunity to continue.

"Do you think I'm an idiot? You think I'd buy that bullshit you two are feeding me about some secret love affair? I know I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed but I'm not stupid enough to believe that you could ever be such a whore!" Benji blurted out in response, before realizing what he said and clapping his hand to his mouth in horror.

"Oh my gosh. I am so sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Oh god this sounded so much better in my head… No! Wait. I meant, I sounded so much smoother; more confident when I planned this confrontation out in my mind…"

"Is that what this is, Benji? A confrontation?" Quinn cut in, her expression unreadable.

Benji found himself unable to meet her beautiful green eyes and nodded.

"Kind of, I guess. I just want to know what's going on. I'm sick of the lies. Lies are what plagued most of my childhood and quite frankly I'm sick and fucking tired of them. My Dad lying to my Mum, my Mum's lies to Dad… It's reached the point where I lie to them about how their gifts are enough substitutes for their absence from my life. A car, an Xbox 360, new drums, a private jet… There's only so much that material goods can make up for."

"I'm… I'm sorry, Benji." She said quietly, sincerely. "I can't tell you the truth, but I promise I won't tell you anymore lies.

"Firstly, you are right that Seb and I are lying – there is absolutely nothing going on between us, and there never will be. I love my husband more than anything in the world and would never in a million years even imagine doing something like that to him. Blaine and Sebastian are actually best friends who have known each other since high school. And Sebastian is… otherwise engaged" she added with a small smirk. "As for the truth of what's actually going on right now that would make us have to lie to you - I can't give you details, but let's just say that Seb wasn't joking when he said his life was at risk, and no, he doesn't mean from his lover's angry husband."

A crease had formed between Benji's brows in worry at how dire the mysterious situation sounded. Specifically, how his new best friend's life was at jeopardy. "Thank you, Quinn, for being honest. But can I ask you to promise me that you'll let me know if there is anything, anything at all that I may be able to help with?"

"I.. I don't-"

"Look, Quinn. I may not have known him for very long at all, but he's my best mate. I couldn't leave him to die. Please. Let me help. Please."

Quinn stared deep into thoughtful blue eyes, wide with hope and anticipation, and possibly saw even a hint of excitement. She remembered how much it sucked to be on the sidelines, helpless as a loved one was in trouble.

"Fine. But you can't tell Sebastian about this deal we've made, okay? As far as he's concerned, you still believe our initial lie."

"Deal."

Quinn hesistated. "I'm sorry to bring this up… but earlier on you mentioned – Did you say your parents got you a private jet?"

The teenager beamed, his white teeth flashing mischievously. "Well, being the son of the CEOs of a company that manufactures aeroplane parts does have its perks, even if said parents are divorced and try to buy my affections. Not gonna lie – sometimes, it's bloody fantastic."

"Well then, Benjamin Westmore, I have a favour to ask of you. For Sebastian."

"Oh?"

"Can you fly someone here for me, from the States? Secretly, privately; preferably so no one has to know she's here."

"I'm sure something can be arranged. How will this help Tob- Sebastian though?"

"Remember how I mentioned previously that he was 'otherwise engaged'?"

"Yeah…"

"I think it's about time you got to meet this special girl."

* * *

><p>Santana was comforting an extremely distraught and apologetic Nick when Jeff strolled back into a room, one hand placed over the phone receiver in his other.<p>

"Artie." He mouthed in her direction.

Shaking her head infinitesimally over Nick's shoulder, where her chin was resting in their embrace, she signaled that it wasn't exactly a good time to talk. Her friend needed her.

Jeff persisted, flailing slightly and whispered, albeit loudly, that it was urgent.

With a resigned sigh, Santana gently pried herself out of Nick's arms and after pecking him on the cheek, stood up to leave the room, grabbing the phone from Jeff on the way out.

"Hello?" she said, shutting the door closed behind her.

"Hey, Santana. How are thing's holding up? Jeff didn't sound too good…"

Artie sounded muffled and hoarse, as if he was sick, or crying – Crap! In the craziness unfolding in the apartment, Santana had all but forgotten that Brittany was being held captive, too. She swallowed back a lump that had formed in her throat, consumed by the guilt. Artie was in this mess because of her, and she was so insensitive to forget how badly this was affecting him as well.

"I'm- We're alright, I guess. Nick's an absolute, catatonic mess and I'm still shaking a little. Jeff made us all tea and I think Nick's calmed down a little now. Well, he stopped trying to claw my eyes out. And yourself, Little Bee?"

"I've been better. Just scared, you know?"

"Terrified."

Artie sniffed. "If it's any comfort at all, I don't expect that Britt, Tina, Charlotte and Blaine are in any immediate danger. Marsen's using them as leverage and it's not in his Modus Operandi to torture his hostages. It's too messy and especially with someone famous like Blaine in the mix, he won't take that risk. Let's just say that if he wanted someone dead, they would be dead within the day. Take… Puck, for example." His voice was quiet, mournful. Santana stifled back a sob. "Marsen obviously wants us on his side, and knows that hurting any one of his hostages will invalidate that offer."

"But still," Santana added. "There's no promises. And I can't live with myself if anyone else gets hurt because of me. I just can't, Artie. All of this is my fault. Me!"

"Shut up. You have done nothing wrong. I would have done what you're doing now if it was to save Brittany. Like how Blaine would do the same for Quinn and Tina for Mike. Love makes us do things we never dreamed we'd ever do. You're putting everything on the line to save Sebastian, Santana, and I admire you for that. Do not apologize for something a sadistic motherfucker committed."

Santana felt a rush of adoration for her friend run through her. Even after all she had put him through, he was kind and forgiving as ever.

"Thank you."

"You're most welcome." Artie replied. "Anyway. On to why I called."

"Yes?"

"Quinn has an offer - well, a demand – for you. She has arranged for a private plane to pick you up and take you somewhere."

"I'm… I'm confused. What's going on?"

"She gave me specific instructions not to tell you where, but I promise, she promises, that you'll be safe wherever she has arranged for you to be taken."

Santana was ashamed of herself. She was actually considering the offer. Amidst all the crazy going on, it would feel amazing to just drop all responsibilities and burdens and spend a while away with her best friend. It was so tempting. So easy. So wrong.

"I can't, Artie. I can't just leave you all here to deal with what's going on. I should be here."

"Snix, listen to me." Artie spoke, his voice firm. "You have to go. Any more of this and you're going to snap, and I don't want to be the one picking up the pieces. I know that our loved ones are being held at stake but believe me when I say that you are not to blame at all. And there isn't much we can do for now anyway. So while I think up something, you get your ass over to wherever it is Quinn wants you because like hell am I going to tolerate the wrath of my cousin."

"But Nick… and Jeff…"

"I'll take care of them. They'll understand. I promise. Just go. I'll call with updates everyday, if it'll make you feel better."

Santana was still reluctant, but she eventually gave in. After all, Artie was right – there wasn't much they could do at the moment. And if he promised to keep her updated… besides, Quinn probably needed her. What with Blaine being kidnapped and all. She wasn't even sure how much Quinn knew about that. So she wrote down the details she was allowed in a careful script on her forearm as Artie read them off to her.

Within an hour of hanging up, Santana's bags were packed and she was all set to go, nervous and excited anticipation gnawing a shallow hole in her chest as she prepared to face another step of the unknown.

* * *

><p>Sebastian re-entered the dorm several moments later, a rather worried expression on his face. Wordlessly, he beckoned Quinn to join him in the far corner of the room, out of earshot from Benji.<p>

"I think I'll have to move on from here soon, Quinn. That concert drew a lot of attention to myself, which is pretty much the opposite of what I was trying to achieve. I'm meant to hide from any spotlight, not be in one - literally. Having the paparazzi lingering around the campus because of your movie doesn't help either- A photo of me might surface and end up in the wrong hands. I have to go. Tonight."

"You can't leave," Quinn replied, just loud enough so Benji could hear and back her up. "Not right now. Don't leave me. Please, Sebastian. I just got you back!" she threw in a few fake tears just for the extra bit of effect.

Sebastian, oblivious to the fact that Benji knew their relationship was a lie, masked his confusion well and played along, believing that Quinn was putting up an act for his room mate's sake.

"Hush Q, everything's gonna be alright..."

Quinn continued to sob fake tears into Sebastian's chest. Benji had picked up on Quinn's unspoken signals to him and carried on where she had left off.

"She's right, mate. Leaving tonight isn't gonna make much of a difference from tomorrow or a few nights later."

"You don't understand, Benji. There are lives at stake here-"

"Tell you what. The Founder's Day Ball is in two nights. Stay for that. Have a dance with your girl. It won't be suspicious since we can make it seem like part of the prize for winning the contest. You're required to perform as the champion of the Talent Show anyway."

Quinn raised her head and gazed into Sebastian's eyes. "Please, Sebastian? Just two nights. For me?"

Exasperated, Sebastian glanced from Quinn to Benji, finally making a decision with a huff.

"Fine. Two nights, and I'm outta here."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>: This was just a transition chapter of sorts, I guess. Short, but to the point._

_Just a heads up guys... Next chapter's a big one ;) Any predictions? Guesses? I'd love to hear them!_

_Much Love,_

_J._


	17. Chapter 15

_**Author's Note**: Thanks for sticking around guys! Hang in there..._

* * *

><p>Thick as Thieves<p>

Chapter 15 - The Ball: Part I

How the two old deserted ballrooms had been done up to form the breathtaking set up before his eyes was nothing short of a work of art. The divider wall between the two adjacent rooms was opened to reveal one large room. Tables had been placed all around the space, set up with classic cream table cloths, elegant sparkling silverware and intricate bouquets in crystal vases. The floor to ceiling windows were covered by luxurious, wine-coloured velvet drapes, some of which were tied back with shimmering gold ties to reveal the vast countryside that the school overlooked; in the darkness of the night, constellations of stars patterned the sky outside. The crystal chandeliers suspending down from the ceiling as well as the flame-lit torches along the wallpapered walls provided the soft, warm glow that lit the room.

It was old glamour. The venue of the Founder's Day Masquerade Ball might as well have been taken right out of a fairytale setting, where the Prince meets the love of his life for the first time as she walks through the brass-trimmed arch of the doorway.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Earlier that day<em>**

Quinn zipped up the back of her best friend's dress and smoothed out the fabric so it sat perfectly on the curve of her waist. The floor-length gown fitted her perfectly; the deep red fabric looking nothing less that flawless against her deep olive skin, the intricate beading detail at the sides accentuating her already natural hourglass figure. They both appraised her reflection in the full length, oval mirror.

"Remember Senior Prom?" Santana asked, a distant look in her eyes.

Quinn chuckled airily. "How could I not?"

Moments passed. The Latina turned to face her best friend, placing a kiss on her cheek before tugging her towards the dresser, wrapping a silk robe around herself as they crossed the room. Her own makeup already done, Santana silently sat Quinn down and began bustling about doing the blonde's makeup.

When she was done, they returned to the dresser and swept on coats of lip colour; Santana's a deep berry shade and Quinn's a classic crimson. They assisted each other in adorning their eye masks, securing the satin ribbon in delicate bows around their hairdos. With a deep breath, the pair left the room arm in arm, just like they had all those years ago when the biggest worry on their minds was that the title of Prom Queen was at stake.

* * *

><p>Sebastian gazed at the constellations of stars that painted the vast canvas of mignight blue above the grassy hills surrounding the school from the balcony. It was beautiful; spectacular, really, but his mind was on other things.<p>

Where was he going to go after tonight? And after that? There was only so long that he could remain in any one place. He'd have to move again, and again, and again… life on the run.

For a briefest moment, he imagined returning home – home being wherever Santana was. Then he became overwhelmed with guilt at the selfishness of that option. He could never even _dream_ of considering that an option. Even if he was prepared to die, there was no way in hell he was going to take her down with him.

His head hurt. He didn't know what to think anymore. He downed the glass of punch in his hand and wished that it had been some form of alcohol instead – the burn it offered would have been welcome to ease the emptiness he felt.

Sebastian turned to get himself another drink from the ballroom and saw his friend Benji, recognisable even with his mask on, making his way towards him on the balcony, two glasses of punch in his hand. Wordlessly, he handed him one and retrieved a metal pocket flask from within his suit jacket, pouring a significant amount of the clear liquid into each glass and stashing it away. He raised his glass in invitation of cheers.

Sebastian touched his own glass lightly to his and chugged back the liquid, wincing slightly at the satisfying burn.

"Something tells me that wasn't water, Benjamin."

The dark-haired teenager choked and sputtered on the drink, cringing as the burn he was not quite accustomed to trailed down his throat. "Gah." he chuckled in response.

Sebastian grinned. "Thanks, man, I needed that."

"So what's on the great mind of Sebastian Smythe?"

"Hmm… nothing I can talk to you about."

"Oh come one dude, I thought we were past this!"

"Not tonight. Please."

Benji decided that it was probably wise to change the subject. "Fine. Cheer up – it's the last night you get to spend with your girl, after all."

Sebastian was so distracted that it had taken him a while to realise what Benji had said. "Of right. Yes. Of course. Quinn."

The conversation was choppy, and his friend clearly was not in a mood to chat. But Benji was terrible at keeping secrets and knew that if he didn't keep talking, he might end up blurting out his deal with Quinn. So he promptly brought up other topics.

"You know," he said with a scoff "Thomas Maclean has been introducing himself to everybody all night with the name Toby Larson to get praises. That twonk thinks that with his mask on, people won't recognise him."

Sebastian laughed in response. "Never was the smartest, that Maclean." Then something seemed to occur to him, and his brows knitted together in a frown. "Oh god. That really isn't smart… where is he? It's not exactly the best time to be pretending to be me."

"Woah, woah. Calm down, buddy." Benji placed a hand on Sebastian's chest to hold him back from where he had made to move back into the ballroom. "He's just there talking to Professor Burton. What's going on?"

"There are people trying to kill me, Benji. I doubt they'd stop to chat to find out if they've got the right Toby Larson before they make a move."

"I thought Toby was an alias?"

"It is. But I don't know how much they know. They're clever. They would have done their homework."

Sebastian seemed to realise that he had said too much to his younger friend and his eyes went wide for a moment, stuttering as he tried to think up an excuse.

"Quinn told me." Benji cut in. "Well, I knew you were lying about your relationship and she confirmed it. She said you couldn't know that I knew, however, because you would try to stop her if you had any idea of what she has planned."

"What?"

"I… I um… er… Would you like more punch?"

"Benji." Sebastian grabbed the boy's arm and shook him roughly. "What is she hiding from me?"

"I can't…"

There were whoops and hollers calling from the ballroom, which announced the arrival of Sansbury Hall's special guest to the Masquerade Ball. The ball attendees flooded to the entrance of the ballroom to catch a glimpse of the Hollywood star Quinn Fabray make her entrance into the venue.

"Put on your mask, Seb. I think you should see for yourself."

* * *

><p>Quinn Fabray looked like a goddess. There was simply no other way to put it. She had channeled her inner 1940's screen siren in an ethereal white dress, soft vintage hairstyle and bright red lips. The cream lace mask just added to the deity-like feel that surrounded her.<p>

Sebastian, however, found his eyes drawn to the girl next to her.

Her hair was piled up into an elegant, romantic updo, a few strands meticulously curled to fall around her perfectly made up face in delicate spirals. Her olive skin was glowing, looking almost luminous in the chandelier lights. Everything about her screamed mystery and perfection - The black lace set over her champagne eye mask; the chandelier earrings that dangled right to the sharp crevice of her jawline; the simple diamond pendant that rested comfortably in the hollow of her throat, elongating the feminine line of her slender neck. The red dress she adorned was flawless on her, every detail from the sweetheart neckline to the wrapped bodice and full skirt accentuated her natural beauty.

People were literally gaping open-mouthed at Quinn and the mystery girl linking arms with her. All dolled up and beautified, it was no wonder why the girl was the most gorgeous creature they had ever laid eyes on. But Sebastian was the only one who had seen her otherwise, out of the makeup and dress and whole disguise. He had seen her bare-faced, in a baggy t-shirt and sweat pants and still knew that she was the most perfect girl he had ever seen, and would ever see in his life.

He almost couldn't breathe. His chest felt uncomfortably tight, his entire abdomen tense. But despite all this, warmth flooded through him. He felt lighter than air, like bundles of burden had been lifted from his shoulders, the ties that filled him with the ever-present weight of dread severed. His sea green eyes shimmered with a new meaning of life, his face contorted into one of awe and pure ecstasy.

He couldn't fight the name that rolled off his tongue, leaving a taste sweeter than honey and richer than chocolate.

"Santana."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Tadah! The big scene we've all been waiting for! (Well, part of it, anyway) I really hope I didn't disappoint :s_

_P.s. This is the dress I pictured Santana in, for those of you interested:_

_http:/www[dot]tjformal[dot][com]/Zoom[dot]aspx?spv_id=917819&spt_id=3_

_And another question time! What has been your favourite chapter/scene(s) so far, and why? I'm curious(: And may or may not be PM-ing spoilers out in return ;)_

_Thanks a billion for reading!_

_-J._


	18. Chapter 16

_**Author's Note**: Sorry for the later update! I hope this makes up for it..._

_Let's pick this up right where we left off, shall we? ;)_

* * *

><p>Thick as Thieves<p>

Chapter 16 – The Ball Pt II

Bloodshot, chocolate brown eyes scanned almost manically across the screen. With a grunt of frustration, the laptop was snapped shut and hands were dragged through brown locks.

The ringing silence was broken by the squeak of a stiff door hinge. Gentle footsteps.

A hand rested on his shoulder.

"Nick?"

A mug was set down in front of him. The aroma of fresh, hot coffee filled his nostrils.

"You know, Buddy – you've gotta move eventually."

"Maybe I don't want to!" He exploded, standing abruptly, but his friend stood his ground in spite of the outburst. "She doesn't deserve this!"

"Well what are you gonna do about, huh?" Jeff drew himself to his full height, staring down at Nick with conflicted emotions all over his pale face. "This is affecting me too, you know. She's as much of a sister to me as she is to you. What do you propose to do about this?"

"I don't know." The shorter man collapsed back into the chair. "I don't know. Something. I can't just sit here doing nothing while Lottie is being held captive. I mean, who the hell does that these days?"

Jeff laughed humourlessly, a bitter sound. "Whoever the fuck knows."

The blonde continued "Look man, I know this is hard. And I trust Artie with my life, because Lord knows that guy knows his shit. But I agree with you that I can't just sit here and wait this out."

Their gazes met, the typically clashing blue and brown currently identical as they both burned with a fierce determination to save the one they loved.

* * *

><p>"Okay, everybody just shut the fuck up and let me think!"<p>

The frantic chatter immediately ceased.

As the moments passed, three pairs of eyes trained themselves at the girl. The actor was the first to break the silence.

"Charlotte?"

"Lottie. Call me Lottie, please. I only get called Charlotte when I'm in trouble, which is surprisingly often."

"Okay… Lottie. What are you thinking?"

* * *

><p>She thought she heard her name. A ghost of it. She looked at the blonde linking arms with her, a puzzled look on her face.<p>

Santana loved being out here with her best friend – it was a refreshing change from all the drama she left behind. She couldn't have been more grateful for being pulled far away to the rural English countryside where Quinn was filming her movie. However, Santana was still slightly dubious about the fact that Quinn was obviously hiding something, yet wouldn't tell her anything.

Which was why hearing her name out here, where nobody was supposed to know who she was, was fairly suspicious. Quinn was too busy waving and smiling her gorgeous smile to the crowd to notice Santana's glance, so she scanned quickly through the crowd. Finally deciding that it was simply her paranoid, stressed out mind playing tricks on her, she shook her head to rid the thought and filled her mind with the idea of having a great time with Quinn, as she always had.

They made their way over to the refreshment table, where They graciously curtsied and greeted the Principal and the other Founding members of the school.

Professor Burton, a stern, but elegant lady with thoughtful grey eyes speculated Santana, not in a judgmental way but rather one of curiosity. Her attention soon shifted towards Quinn, however, but her eyes darted back to Santana's face intermittently.

"Welsome, Ms Fabray. It's really an honour to have you here with us for this special event. And might I say you look nothing short or gorgeous tonight."

"Thank you, Professor. And please, just call me Quinn. This is my friend Elena."

Santana curtsies graciously.

"Welcome to Sansbury Hall, and I hope you enjoy your stay."

One of the staff runs up to the Principal and whispers something in her ear, to which she nods in reply. Turning back to Quinn and Santana, she apologizes and promptly leaves.

When she focuses her attention back on Quinn, she finds her friend looking off into the distance, and those concealed by the mask, Santana can tell that her brow was furrowed.

"Okay, Blondie, you've dragged this out for long enough. Now spill."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Came the innocent reply.

"Oh come on. Don't pull this bullshit with me again. I know you're hiding something. I've known you since we were dressing up Barbies, for fuck's sake! I think I can tell when you're trying to hide something from me."

People were starting to stare at the exchange as Santana's voice augmented with her agitation. Most looked, in addition to the curiosity written on their faces, dumbfounded at the foul language leaving the gorgeous belle's mouth.

"Santana-"

"Oh don't you Santana me. I know. So tell me or god so help me I will-"

Santana was cut off when a hand wrapped itself around her forearm. Her first response was to shriek and defend herself against her attacker (ie, knee in groin), but before she could react she found herself being dragged away.

"Get your fucking hands off me, you idio-"

Her words were cut off abruptly when she realized that her apprehender was not assaulting her, but rather, enveloping her into a warm embrace. For a moment she was stunned and unsure of how to respond to this strange interaction, simply standing there rather awkwardly for a few brief seconds.

Just as the shock was about to wear off in place of anger, she had a revelation.

This hug was too comfortable, too familiar to be some random stranger who had serious mental issues. The way her body fit into the strong, lean body and arms encircling her was only ever experienced that perfectly with one other person in this world. She took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet, warm scent that she knew so well. Her eyes watered up, and she flung her arms around the strong back, burying her head into the crook of his neck and muffling the sobs that threatened to escape out of her.

For too long they stayed locked in their little world, one that they were both content to live in forever.

* * *

><p>"Your plan worked."<p>

"Of course it did. I know her too well for it not to have. I told you that neither could ever have found out what we were up to, or all this would never have succeeded."

"Well, I guess you were right."

"It doesn't matter. What matters now is that they are where they are meant to be, which is together.."

Benji casted a sideways glance at Quinn, watching her gaze adoringly at the couple currently hugging in the far corner of the ballroom, her nimble fingers tugging lightly on the ribbons of the mask she held in her hands.

"Yeah." He agreed. "They deserve this."

"Thank you, Benji. They couldn't be together without your help, you know." She looked him right in the eye; green and blue meeting. "After all, it was your plane that brought Santana here."

"Oh please, it was the least I could do." He cleared his throat. "Well, Ms Fabray, may I possibly have the honour of this first dance?"

Quinn threw her head back and laughed at the grand bow that Benji performed whilst offering his hand. "I would love to."

The orchestra started and couple filed slowly onto the dance floor. Benji led Quinn over delicately, receiving resentful glares from other students (and teachers) for being the mysterious masked student who had the gorgeous Celebrity guest as a dance partner.

Benji was surprisingly coordinated when it came to ballroom dancing, much to Quinn's relief. She felt a tad guilty for thinking otherwise, but to be fair, his track record of clumsiness-related accidents was unfortunately high. She wasn't looking forward to trampled toes.

The pair waltzed gracefully with the rest of the dancers, their movements flowy and graceful. Half keeping an eye on Sebastian and Santana in the corner, they saw them finally break apart and leave the hall.

"What's next for them?" Benji inquired quietly, solemnly.

"That," Quinn whispered back "is solely in the hands of fate."

* * *

><p>They rushed out of the ballroom, their pace growing with each step further from the crowd. In a deserted hallway, he pushed her up against a wall, crushing his lips to hers, reveling in the taste he never thought would ever grace his tongue again.<p>

Distance makes the heart grow fonder. You don't know what you've got till it's gone. Understatements of the fucking century.

He pulled away, marveling in the deep wonders of those gorgeous brown eyes.

"I love you." He kissed her cheek. "I love you so, so much."

There was silence as they looked into each others eyes, taking in every feature of each others face that had already been memorized.

Then the moment was over when three words left Santana's lips.

"Fuck you, Smythe."

"Huh?"

Confusion was quickly marred when Sebastian found himself being beaten by her small, but surprisingly powerful fists. Instinct kicked in and made him hold his arms out in front of himself in defense.

"You. Fucking. Asshole." She pounded at his arms repeatedly with her fists, accompanying each blow with a word spat out trough gritted teeth.

"Gah. Ouch. Ungh. Stop it!" He exclaimed. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" She guffawed bitterly, sarcastically. "You couldn't find the fucking guts to just call me and tell me what the fuck was going on with you? Where you were? How you were? Hell, you could have just let me know you were alive. That your heart was still beating and you were still breathing and… oh my god. I can't do this. I just…" angry tears were pooling at the corner of her eyes, and Sebastian felt strangely tempted to reach out and wipe them away. His chest hurt at the sight of her crying, made worse by the fact that he had caused those tears. "Why? Why didn't you call?"

Yet, he found himself unable to answer that one simple question. If he did, there would be no turning back. She would never leave. He could never leave without her. "I… I- Santana."

She scoffed. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

It hurt to pull his eyes from her face, but he found himself unable to meet her steady gaze as he shook his head.

"Forget it. Do you have any idea what I've gone through to save your ass? What I've been doing since you left? What I have lost?"

The shattered, frenzied mannerism broke his heart; he could literally feel the ache. The turmoil he had put her through had aged her. But he had to keep her talking so he wouldn't accidentally let the truth slip. "Well, why did you even bother? The whole point of me leaving was so that you could move on. Be happy. Without me."

"Don't you get it?" tears were freely streaming down her cheeks now. "I did that all, risked my life multiple times and lost one of my best friends forever to save you. Because I love you, Sebastian. I love you and I would rather die a hundred times over than live without you. Can't you understand that? I love you, you bastard. I. Love. You."

It was in that moment that Sebastian decided that no matter what he were to run into, Santana was going to be there with him. Three wordshad changed it all: I love you.

"I couldn't call because I knew that the second I heard your voice, there would be no turning back. I'd have to be with you, and I could never live with myself if you ever got hurt because of me. I tried, Santana, lord knows I tried but every time I picked up the phone I couldn't make myself do it. I've missed you so much and it's killed me to know that I could never see you again, but I knew it was for the best because if those murderers ever got to you…" He took a big gulp of air, his gaze intensifying as he continued. "There's no future for you with me, San. This is how I'm going to live now – on the run. I couldn't put you through that."

Her eyes glistened with unspoken emotions and he began to fear her response. To be perfectly honest, this was the one time that he had no inkling of an idea as to how she would react to his confession. Would she call him a coward and leave? Would she stay? His hope began to dwindle as the seconds passed.

He shut his eyes.

* * *

><p>Benji politely excused himself to go get some punch to soothe both his own and Quinn's parched throats. They had talked and laughed and were both surprised by how well they got along. With every passing moment, Quinn just found the young teen whom she was fast beginning to see as a cousin of sorts remind her more and more of Blaine.<p>

Blaine. She hadn't heard from him in over two days. This was incredibly worrying... her only comfort was in a text message she had received from Artie the previous day telling her all was normal on his end and that he promised to check up on Blaine sometime soon to make sure he hadn't accidentally locked himself in the pantry. She chewed on her lip in worry, ignoring the fact that her lip colour would have smudged everywhere if not for the fact that it had mostly all faded by now.

She smiled fondly at the thought, seeing as locking himself in a pantry of larder was something she could clearly picture her goofball of a husband doing.

Scanning through the ballroom, she found that Santana and Sebastian were nowhere to be seen, and smirked to herself with the thought of what the two were probably up to.

"Oi Westmore. Where's your boy Larson tonight?" a hand swooped out to snatch the freshly filled cup of punch from his hands, spilling a small amount on his Jacket in the process.

"What the fuck?" he cried "Could you do us all a favour and not be a prat for just a few hours tonight, Maclean?"

"Or you'll do what, huh? Larson ain't around to watch your sorry little ass. Besides, I've got half the attendees tonight thinking I'm him."

"Everything alright here?" a blonde teenager walked up, his face concealed by a green mask with pale blue eyes just visible.

Benji recognized his friend instantly and nodded, casting an annoyed glance at Thomas Maclean. "Yeah, Caleb. We're good here."

While Caleb wasn't tall, he was sturdy and Maclean decided it was probably best to not to cause a scene. "Quit hogging the Celebrity, Westmore. Why she chose you of all people as a partner still boggles me, but lay off and give us all a go." With that, he turned on his heel and left, Caleb's gaze fooling him with an expression of pure disgust.

As he watched the other teen walk away, Benji swore under his breath and grudgingly admitted that with the mask and suit on, Maclean did indeed sort of resemble Sebastian. They were of similar height and build, and Benji was positive that Thomas had started styling his brown hair the way Sebastian did after seeing the way girls tending to drift towards the new student.

Well that had worked well for him. Not.

"What?" Caleb asked.

"Huh?"

"You look like you just rigged all the chairs with whoopie cushions. What are you thinking of?"

"Oh it's nothing." Benji brushed off. "Thanks man, and good luck for your performance later!"

"Don't mention it; Maclean's a prat. And you too."

Filling another cup of punch, he made his way back through the crowd to his dance partner, the smirk on his face returning as he imagined the satisfaction of seeing that pompous, big-headed impostor in some form of agony.

* * *

><p>Soft hands caressed his face and he instinctively leaned into the touch.<p>

"Hey, look at me."

He felt a forehead touch to his and opened his eyes.

"I love you, and I want to be with you. No matter what or where or how. So stop being a fucking martyr and let me come with you wherever it is you are going. Besides, Psycho Assassin's already found me."

He couldn't help the chuckle that left his lips. "Trust Santana Lopez to kill a moment with a snarky comment."

She slapped his arm, her eyes narrowed in a scowl.

Suddenly, her words struck him. "Wait, what?" he said in alarm "Did you say they've found you?"

"His name's Gareth Marsen. It's a long story. But we're safe here. He doesn't know where you are. Where I am." Santana felt a pang of guilt that she was keeping the news of Blaine's abduction from him, but at the moment she just allowed herself to enjoy the fact that Sebastian was alive, that Sebastian was here, that Sebastian loved her.

"But how is everything else at home? Jesus, Santana. Is everyone safe?" his face drained of colour. "You said… you said someone was lost. It isn't… who…"

"Worry about that later. For now, just shut up and kiss me."

When their lips connected, their worlds felt right. All thoughts about murderous villains and friends in danger were lost. For in that moment, they were together, and they were in love.

Passion. Heat. Raw emotion surged through their veins, neither willing to lose any physical contact with the other. Her hands tangled in his hair and his own grasped at the small of her back, diminishing whatever space that was between their flushed bodies.

"Come with me." He whispered breathlessly, tugging on her arm as he stumbled both their weights down the corridor. She moaned when his lips attached to a sensitive spot behind her jaw, teasing the soft flesh with teeth and tongue.

Moving noisily towards the exit while entangled in a jumble of limbs, it was no surprise when he tripped and they both fell over. She landed on top of him, her cheek pressed to his chest and listening to the rapid beating of his heat.

Their eyes crinkled up in laughter; a strange complement to the lust-blown pupils.

"Oh and Santana?"

"Hmm?" she traced her nose along his jaw.

"I love you."

* * *

><p>"Welcome all to Sansbury Hall's two hundred and fiftieth Founder's Day Ball. I'm Professor Miranda Burton, Principal of this prestigious school and I would on behalf of the staff and myself wish you a pleasant evening ahead.<p>

To start off our evening's entertainment, I would like to invite some contestants of our Geoffrey Burton Annual Musical Talent Competition up on stage. As some of you may know, this annual talent competition is in remembrance of a beloved Professor of this school. Every year, we discover amazing talent amongst our student body and it is with pleasure that I introduce to you some of these fine performers tonight. Here to perform his own rendition of Aerosmith's 'I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing' is the first runner up of the competition held just two nights ago - Caleb Stevens. Enjoy!"

A blonde boy walked on stage, a wide grin plastered on his handsome face. Quinn fought back a giggle when Benji fist pumped and yelled "Yeah Buddy!" to cheer his friend on.

[www[dot]youtube[dot]com/watch?v=6Zy58mMAryU&feature=related]

The applause faded out as the piano introduction began.

_I could stay awake just to hear you breathing  
><em>_Watch you smile while you are sleeping  
><em>_While you're far away and dreaming  
><em>_I could spend my life in this sweet surrender  
><em>_I could stay lost in this moment forever_

_Well, every moment spent with you  
><em>_Is a moment I treasure_

* * *

><p>The door was kicked shut behind them with a loud slam, but neither registered it and quite frankly, neither cared. Everything was so rushed, desire taking over and coursing red-hot through their veins, but at the same time all they wanted was to appreciate every moment, every touch. Hands couldn't decide whether to caress what was already exposed or to feel more skin; hair was tousled and buttons undone.<p>

Somewhere in the jumble she unzipped her dress and stepped out of it, leaving it in a discarded heap on the floor. He knelt before her, his fingers ghosting along the back of her thighs while he pressed tender kisses to her torso.

She pulled him up by his tie, for a second simply staring lovingly into those amazing green eyes before closing the distance between them to catch his lips yet again with hers.

They collapsed onto the bed, bodies sliding and burning and feeling. She threw her head back only to have her neck assaulted, tasting and sucking and soothing.

"Sebastian." She breathes. Everything was _him_.

* * *

><p><em>I don't wanna close my eyes<em>_  
>I don't wanna fall asleep<em>_  
>'Cause I'd miss you, babe<em>_  
>And I don't wanna miss a thing<em>_  
>'Cause even when I dream of you<em>_  
>The sweetest dream would never do<em>_  
>I'd still miss you, babe<em>_  
>And I don't wanna miss a thing<em>

* * *

><p>She was beautiful. He ran his thumb along her cheekbone, cradling her head in his hand. His other hand ran along her side, over the satin skin and firm muscle to the slight ridges of her ribs. In some insignificant part of his mind it occurred to him that those fragile bones were far too prominent – she was almost unhealthily thin. Once more, he was ashamed of all that he had put her through in the past few months.<p>

His guilty expression didn't go unnoticed by her, and she reached up to turn his face to hers.

"I love you."

* * *

><p><em>Lying close to you<br>Feeling your heart beating  
>And I'm wondering what you're dreaming<br>Wondering if it's me you're seeing  
><em>

_Then I kiss your eyes and thank God we're together  
>And I just wanna stay with you<br>In this moment forever, forever and ever_

* * *

><p>"I love you too." He replied, so much love in his words that she felt her fluttering heart swell in her chest.<p>

She straddled his hips, leaning over to kiss him, and it occurred to her that this was their first real time; the first time that it really counted.

* * *

><p><em>I don't wanna close my eyes<br>I don't wanna fall asleep  
>'Cause I'd miss you, babe<br>And I don't wanna miss a thing  
>'Cause even when I dream of you<br>The sweetest dream would never do  
>I'd still miss you, babe<br>And I don't wanna miss a thing_

* * *

><p>There was a difference between love and lust. Sebastian had never even believed in the former. But watching the gorgeous girl above him coming undone, he knew that all those one night stands and random hookups had been an absolutely terrible point of comparison.<p>

He now knew that love and lust could co-exist in a beautiful harmony when combined within the right person. This person would be known as a soul mate.

And Sebastian had found his.

* * *

><p><em>I don't wanna miss one smile<em>_  
>I don't wanna miss one kiss<em>_  
>Well, I just wanna be with you<em>_  
>Right here with you, just like this<em>_  
>I just wanna hold you close<em>_  
>Feel your heart so close to mine<em>_  
>And just stay here in this moment<em>_  
>For all the rest of time<em>

* * *

><p>"Sebastian-"<p>

"Santana-"

""I love you.""

* * *

><p><em>Don't wanna close my eyes<br>I Don't wanna fall asleep  
>'Cause I'd miss you, babe<br>And I don't wanna miss a thing  
>'Cause even when I dream of you<br>The sweetest dream would never do  
>'Cause I'd still miss you, babe<br>And I don't wanna miss a thing_

_I don't wanna close my eyes  
>I don't wanna fall asleep<br>'Cause I'd miss you, babe  
>And I don't wanna miss a thing<br>'Cause even when I dream of you  
>The sweetest dream would never do<br>I'd still miss you, babe  
>And I don't wanna miss a thing<br>Don't wanna close my eyes  
>Don't wanna fall asleep, yeah<em>

_I don't wanna miss a thing_

_I don't wanna miss a thing_

* * *

><p>"Artie, are you there?"<p>

"Hey man. What's up?"

"Any news about Charlotte?" he swallowed nervously. "And Brittany?"

"No… I've been trying to locate them but it hasn't been easy, this son of a bitch know his shit."

"Look, I know it's not what you told us to do, but Jeff and I can't just sit here and wait for something to happen. We're gonna make it happen. Tonight."

"What are you going to do?"

"We need you to contact Marsen. Say that we accept his offer."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>: So... (: The big reconciliation! Super fluffy, and possibly even sappy, I know. Haha(: As always, I hope I did this pivotal moment justice._

_Anyway... credit goes to the lovely **Shweirbones** for her idea of making Santana throw a little rage fit and start hitting Sebastian! It was so perfectly Sebtana that I had to add that in!_

_The song used was I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing by Aerosmith, as covered by the lovely Hunter Parrish (link above)_

_Thanks again for reading, guys! I look forward to any comments/reviews (:_


	19. Chapter 17

_**Thick as Thieves**_

Chapter 17 - The Ball, Pt lll

Santana was hovering somewhere in the hazy space between consciousness and nothingness. Vaguely, she noted the firm chest she was rested her head on, the bare skin smooth and warm against her cheek. Subconsciously, she snuggled into the delightful warmth, tightening her arms around the toned torso and tucking herself impossibly closer into the familiar embrace. She felt nimble fingers trace down her spine, skimming along the small of her back and drawing random loops and patterns into her hip.

A small sound of contentment emitted from the back of her throat. The fingers left her flesh and she nearly whined at the loss. She felt the muscle beneath her face tense as the body beneath her shifted. Oh hell no, she wasn't moving just yet. It was to her relief that the disruptive movement was merely to pull the duvet over her, and those glorious hands returned to envelope her and pull her back closer to the warm body which was once again relaxed.

Hours could have passed for all she knew. For all she cared. She had never been happier - simply lying and listening to the beating heart beneath her palm where it rested on Sebastian's chest and breathing in the delicious, comforting scent.

In that moment, she allowed herself to forget about thievery and murder, assassins and kidnappers. She fought against the guilt of neglecting the turmoil that swirled and bubbled, instead choosing to savour the present moment in which she had never felt safer or happier.

* * *

><p>"Damn this being a masquerade ball, how are we supposed to find him in this sea of masked people?"<p>

"If it wasn't masked, we wouldn't have made it in. So shut up."

The couple's eyes scanned through the crowed, singling out the candidates who somewhat matched the description given by their boss.

The woman was dressed elegantly in an olive green gown with draped shoulders that made her pale skin glow. Her light blonde hair was combed into a chignon low on the nape of her neck, the gold mask framing her green eyes.

The man was in a classic black tuxedo, his black hair skicked back. With the grey mask, he blended in with the crowd, undistinguishable from eighty percent of the other male attendees.

"Why can't he look for him himself? We always end up doing his dirty work."

"Because, idiot, it's our job to do as he says. And he won't hesitate to make your life a living hell if he should feel so inclined, so I'd show some respect if I were you."

He grumbled unintelligibly, though her telling off shut him up on the matter.

"Where is he, anyway?"

"Gareth should be somewhere on campus. His flight arrived this morning."

They were distracted by a small ruckus at the punch table. The pair stiffened.

"You reckon that's him?" he nodded towards a tall, lanky brunette who was in the midst of what looked like an argument.

"I don't know, Doofus. But he does match the description."

"Let's find out then. Remember – he's using an alias… Toby Something."

"Larson, I believe."

"That's the one."

As the young man passed, mumbling under his breath about pathetic losers, the woman stepped forward, intentionally snagging her foot on the long hem of her dress and falling against his lean physique.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry." She gushed, straightening herself and smoothing down her hair. "Are you alright?" she asked in concern.

First, he looked annoyed, but all it took was a glance at the lady before his features rearranged into one of earnest apology. "No, please ma'am, it was no trouble at all. Are you alright?"

"I'm the one who jumped on you, and you're the one asking if I'm alright?" she giggled airily, waving her hands and patting him carelessly on his chest. "But I'm fine, thank goodness you caught me!"

Her partner cleared his throat.

"Of course, how rude of me!" she continued. "I'm Clarisse Lindham, and his is my date, Fredrick."

"I'm Tom- Toby. Toby Larson. It's an honour to meet you."

"Please, the honour's mine."

"It was lovely meeting you, Clarisse and Fredrick, but unfortunately there is somewhere I have to be right now. Have a lovely evening." Flashing a white grin, the boy left.

The woman nudged her date with her elbow.

"Call Boss. Tell him Sebastian Smythe is in the room."

* * *

><p>"Hey."<p>

Santana turned her head, stretching out her neck and blinking up at the speaker. "Hey, you." She smiled.

"Slept well?"

"Unimaginably so."

"Mmhmm. Same here."

There was pause; a gap of comfortable, blissful silence.

Suddenly, she was jerked upright so she no longer lying across his chest, but rather, sitting and looking right into Sebastian's green, green eyes. His hand cradled her face and she instinctively leaned into the touch.

"I've missed you," he murmured "so, so much."

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, answering him with actions ten times more powerful than what words could express.

He kissed her back. It was passionate, but beneath it all she felt a tension build. One that was urgent, and increasingly nervous, as if trying to cherish the moment in anticipation before bigger issues came into play.

Too soon, they broke apart. Sebastian sighed.

"San," he began.

She knew where this conversation was headed. It wasn't going to be pleasant, but it had to come about eventually. With a deep breath, she began the recap of what had happened after his departure from the resort in the Bahamas.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

He listened intently, his eyes never leaving her face the entire time. At points, however, she found herself inexplicably unable to meet his gaze, but eventually remembered how close she had come to never being able to see it again and diverted her eyes back to his.

She sensed, rather that felt the crease that formed between his eyebrows when she spoke of how she had risked arrest by impersonating an agent. He stroked soothing circles on the back of her hand when her voice cracked while talking about Puck. His head was tilted slightly to the side, his brain soaking up every detail as Santana filled him in on everything that he had missed out on.

Well, almost everything. One part she couldn't bring herself to tell.

"… and here we are."

The way he looked at her; deep into her eyes. Reading, calculating, studying. The intensity forced her to look away, but gentle fingers guided her face back to his.

"You're hiding something." He simply stated. Not accusatory or questioningly… just stated.

She gulped, her throat uncomfortably tight.

"It's…" she sighed and closed her eyes. "it's Blaine."

* * *

><p>The wall they were facing lit up- turns out what they had initially thought was a blank white wall was, in fact, a projector screen. The image became more defined, the pixels stabilizing to provide a clear image.<p>

It was a young man, probably in his late twenties, with jet black hair and bright blue eyes.

"Hello," he smiled pleasantly, as if having a friendly conversation with a neighbour. "How are you all today?"

The silence that fell upon the four captives was instantaneous. Blaine glared, his hazel eyes narrowed and filled with uncharacteristic hatred. Tina stared unblinkingly at the screen her expression unreadable. Brittany looked vaguely confused, but squinted suspiciously all the same. In spite of her limited movement from her wrists being strapped to the chair, Charlotte managed to flip the projection off.

"My my- feisty, now aren't we, Miss Duval?" the projection said, his thin lips pulling up at the corners.

"Fuck you." The teen spat through gritted teeth. "You gutless, cowardly asshole. Why don't you come talk to us face to face in this little shithole you call a prison? I bet it's because you don't have the balls to deal with the fact that you'd get your ass kicked by an eighteen year old girl strapped to a chair!"

"You really have quite the vocabulary there, young lady." His cold blue eys flashed brieflhy in annoyance, though his narrow face displayed nothing but mild amusement. "I wonder where you learnt it from – was it your brother? Or maybe it was that little blonde friend of his… Jeff, if I recall correctly."

Charlotte's face drained of colour. The man in the projection smirked in satisfaction.

"I see I've struck a chord, haven't I, Sweetheart?"

It was Blaine's turn to hurl furious words. "Who the fuck are you and what have you done to them?"

"Again with the language. Sheesh." He rolled his eyes. "For your information, my name is Brian Marsen. And I haven't touched them. In fact, I'm just babysitting you guys for my brother."

"Why are we here?" Tina piped up.

Brian simply shrugged. "Well, last night I received a call from my brother, who mentioned something about catching an overnight express flight to London. Something about not trusting others to do his job for him."

Blaine's eyes grew wide in alarm. London. Quinn.

"Something you would like to say, Mr. Anderson?"

Blaine gulped, his adam's apple bobbing visibly. He cleared his throat and rearranged his features to hide the worry.

"No." he said, managing to control his voice from wavering.

Unfortunately, his previous concern had not gone unnoticed.

"Really?" Brian Marsen's Cheshire grin was sickening. "Not even about Quinn?"

* * *

><p>A broad hand rested on his shoulder and he jumped in fright.<p>

"Argh!"

"Hey, Benji. You alright? Sorry to startle you but you were kinda staring off into space…"

"No no no. I'm fine. Just a bit jittery tonight, Caleb."

"Ah. Stage fright, eh? I know the feeling." The blonde grinned lopsidedly. "You're singing next, after Andy."

It took Benji a few blinks to realize that his friend thought he was worried because of performance jitters, not the fact that he was helping to harbour two wanted fugitives. Granted, they were the good guys in this situation, but criminals nonetheless.

"Oh yeah. Right. Sure. Butterflies and what not." He laughed unconvincingly.

"You'll be grand!" Caleb chortled jovially, patting his friend on the back and subtly handing the smaller brunette a pocket flask. "Take a swig; it'll help with the nerves."

Nodding non-committedly, Benji did as he was told. He cringed at the burning trail left down his throat.

"Thanks." He managed to sputter.

"Sure thing. Anytime, buddy."

A young teacher, dressed up for the night, approached the boys.

"Benjamin Westmore?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're up on stage next."

"I'm on my way over. Thank you."

She smiled and left with Benji in tow.

"Break a leg, Benji!" Caleb called after them.

* * *

><p>Sebastian looked calm.<p>

This worried Santana.

Wordlessly, he leaned over and kissed her cheek before pushing himself off the bed. He pulled on his trousers and slipped on his shirt, locating his blood red tie and looping it around his neck.

"We need to go." He announced, his voice unwavering and firm as he did up his tie.

"Where?"

"Away from here." He shrugged on his jacket. "But right now, I would like one more dance with my beautiful Santana."

He extended his arm to her, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips.

She stared, dumbfounded.

Finally, he sighed and sat himself down on the edge of the bed next to her.

"Look," he began. "You know how much Blaine means to me. He's my best friend in this world. But as you pointed out, there's

Not much we can do at this very moment. And you trust this Artie, and I trust you. Therefore, by extension, I trust him when he said there's not a high chance that he and the other hostages are in any immediate danger.

I know you, Santana. You would never have come here if you knew that there was something that could be done there. Sure, it kills me to know that while I'm here spending time with the one I love, he's somewhere in possible danger, but I trust you. So will you grant me the honour of one last dance here before we head back to save my best friend's ass?"

Santana was a firm believer that actions spoke louder than words. Once again, she found herself fulfilling this mantra; seated on his lap and her arms encircling his shoulders and neck.

"I love you too." He said when she pulled away to adorn her dress.

* * *

><p>"The night's drawing to a close! For the second last act of the night, please welcome on stage our first runner up – Benjamin Westmore!"<p>

Nodding politely to the audience in acknowledgement of their applause, Benji took to the stand.

"Good evening all! I hope you're having a fabulous night. My name is Benji and I'll be singing my own rendition of I Won't Give Up by Jason Mraz. This is dedicated to all the lovers out there – there will always be obstacles to overcome, but remember that love rules above all else. Thank you."

_When I look into your eyes  
>It's like watching the night sky<br>Or a beautiful sunrise  
>There's so much they hold<br>_

_And just like them old stars  
>I see that you've come so far<br>To be right where you are  
>How old is your soul?<em>

* * *

><p>"Where is he?"<p>

"Argh! Jesus Christ, Boss. Don't' sneak up on us like that."

"Where is he?"

"Somewhere in this room. Black suit, red tie, dark green mask. Matches your description – About 6'1 - 6'2, lanky, brunette. Introduced himself to us as Toby Larson. That's your guy."

* * *

><p><em>I won't give up on us<br>Even if the skies get rough  
>I'm giving you all my love<br>I'm still looking up_

_And when you're needing your space_  
><em>To do some navigating<em>  
><em>I'll be here patiently waiting<em>  
><em>To see what you find<em>

_'Cause even the stars they burn_  
><em>Some even fall to the earth<em>  
><em>We've got a lot to learn<em>  
><em>God knows we're worth it<em>  
><em>No, I won't give up<em>

* * *

><p>They paused before entering the ballroom. Sebastian cleared his throat and held his forearm out formally for his date to hook her arm through. Santana giggled, straightening his tie and readjusting the green mask on his face before threading her arm through his.<p>

Together, they made their way into the crowded hall.

* * *

><p><em>I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily<br>I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make  
>Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use the tools and gifts<br>We got yeah we got a lot at stake  
>And in the end,<br>You're still my friend at least we didn't tend  
>For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn<br>We had to learn, how to bend without the world caving in  
>I had to learn what I got, and what I'm not<br>And who I am_

* * *

><p>Sebastian and Santana joined the crowd of slow-dancing couple on the dance floor. He smiled; it was a perfect little coincidence that this last dance would be to a song performed by his friend.<p>

* * *

><p><em><em>_I won't give up on us__  
><em>_Even if the skies get rough__  
><em>_I'm giving you all my love__  
><em>_I'm still looking up__  
><em>_I'm still looking up__I won't give up on us__  
><em>_God knows I'm tough enough__  
><em>_We got a lot to learn__  
><em>_God knows we're worth it__I won't give up on us__  
><em>_Even if the skies get rough__  
><em>_I'm giving you all my love__  
><em>_I'm still looking up..._

* * *

><p>In the middle of the crowded dance floor, a body collapsed to the ground.<p>

No one heard the muted thud of a silenced gunshot.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Cliffhanger! _

_I am so, so sorry that this update has taken forever. Been crazy busy with... life. I can't believe it's already July!_

_If you feel I still deserve it after leaving you all hanging for so long, please, please, please leave a review?_

_I love you all! (:_


	20. Chapter 18

**Thick as Thieves**

Chapter 18 - _The Ball, Part IV_

* * *

><p>Panic. It spreads faster than wildfire.<p>

Within seconds, the crowd was in a frenzy. Screams, shrieks, chaos. Glass smashed, from the clinking of shattered wine glasses to the crunching of a broken window.

Everyone ran out of the suddenly too narrow archways of the doors and into the cold open.

Within minutes, all that was left in the ballroom was the crumpled body of a slim young man in a green mask. Blood seeped from the single, clean bullethole to the left of his chest, staining his white shirt to match the deep red of his tie.

* * *

><p>"Quinn?" Benji was frantic. He needed to find Quinn, and fast. Their location had obviously already been compromised. He needed to get the blonde actress out of here as soon as humanly possible. "Quinn!"<p>

He forced his way against the stampede of people crushed in the narrow hallways, flooding towards the doors out of the ancient castle to scatter in the outdoors in hopes that the area and darkness would provide some form of safety.

Benji wasn't too worried about this – he knew the shooter would not fire again. His job was done, his target slain, and no one else was going to get hurt tonight.

He wiped at tears he had not realized had pooled at the corners of his eyes.

His true friend was gone.

That was when he heard it.

"Benji!"

He perked up, following the melodic voice, sweet in spite of the fear and panic that currently saturated it.

"Quinn!" he all but rammed into her, catching her before she fell over and wrapping a secure arm around her waist. "This way!"

Quinn followed orders and ran with the boy towards the southern tower of Sansbury Hall. Once out of sight of the rest of the hysterical crowd, they slowed to a brisk walk. Benji pulled out his mobile and punched a string of numbers, successful after only the third time because his fingers were trembling so much.

He managed to bark out some orders, arranging for his driver to come pick them up. Shaking, he hit the end call button and sank to the ground, his back pressed against the cold stone walls of the building.

"Did you see him?"

Benji looked up to see Quinn staring at the ground, her green eyes bright with unshed tears.

There was a lump in his throat; he couldn't speak. So instead, he nodded.

"And Santana?"

"I don't know, Quinn. I'm sorry. It was madness in there and my first priority was to get you out – I promised Sebastian that I couldn't let anything happen to you."

The floodgates broke, and Quinn found herself crumpled on the floor, watching her falling tears leave darker water marks against the cream of her dress.

* * *

><p>"I still don't understand why we're here." Brittany commented, which made the barely-pixelated image of Brian Marsen throw his head back in robust chortles.<p>

Charlotte was gritting her teeth together so hard that it was making her jaw go numb. But she didn't want to say anything and risk giving this bastard more information than he already had. The thought alone o how much he knew terrified her. He didn't need to know one detail more. She snuck a sideways glance at Blaine.

The singer had his head bowed to his chest, but she realized that he lacked the slumped shoulders and defeated posture of someone who had conceded to a battle. Silently, she thanked whatever was out there that this interpretive physical observation had been covered in the one psychology lecture that she had actually paid attention to.

Blaine was putting on an act.

And Charlotte knew why. She played along, taking advantage of the fact that she was a teenage girl to dramatize and hopefully make their performance more convincing. She allowed a quiet sob to leave her lips and gently shook her shoulders in subdued sobs.

Tina looked at her two fellow captives, the initial confusion quickly replaced by understanding. Marsen was out there tormenting them so he could watch them demand answers. The man was evidently not quite right in the head, and saw the prisoners' fighting as a game. It was like tipping a tortoise on its back and spinning it around, laughing at its attempts to flip itself right side up again when it was all obviously in vain. By appearing defeated and worn, hopefully Marsen would get bored and leave so they could go back to figuring a way out of this mess.

So she, too, slumped her shoulders and trembled her lip, turning away as if to try and hide the fact that she was crying.

Brittany looked around, seeing all her new friends breaking down. She hated tears, and seeing others cry made her cry, too.

Now all they could do was hope that Brian Marsen would fall for their deception and go away.

* * *

><p>"Come on, Santana!" the hand on her arm was so tight that she was sure it would bruise, but she was in no state to complain as she knew she could trust Sebastian to lead her to safety.<p>

It surprised her how much detail she was still taking in despite the frenzied pace at which everything around her seemed to be taking place at. She felt the vibrations of hundreds of running feet pounding against the stone floors; observed every flicker of the passing torches as Sebastian dragged her down the hall. She saw the way his long fingers wrapped all the way around her forearm, guiding her out of harms way. She saw the crazed determination in the green eyes peeking out from his darker green mask, his red tie half-folded out of his jacket from the running and pushing through the crowd.

"Hey!" he suddenly yelled, and Santana watched almost in awe at the way his adam's apple bobbed along the smooth line of his throat. Preoccupied by all the madness, it took a while to occur to her that he was yelling at two distant figures climbing into a dark car by the Southern Tower.

One blonde lady in a cream dress, the other dark-haired young man in a suit.

Quinn, and Benji.

* * *

><p>The ballroom was finally empty, and Gareth Marsen made his way across the deserted dancefloor to the body that lay crumple on the ground.<p>

It was that time again – his assignment successful, his bank account significantly fuller, and his reputation in his field of work at sky-high levels – time for him to follow through with his Modus Operandi. He retrieved a slim, high-tech camera from his suit jacket and snapped a few photos of the body. He would keep these to send to his client later as evidence that the job was done.

Reaching into the boy's pocket, he pulled out his tasteful leather wallet and slid out the ID card from its sleeve. He always kept the Target's ID card– it was just his assassin trademark, a quirk of sorts that was unique to each professional killer. He smirked to himself as he thought about just how many fake IDs this particular target would have had stored away. He turned the one he was currently holding over in his hands, marveling at how well made and detailed the British Student ID card was. The encoding, the scripting, the photo…

Marsen frowned.

He knew Sebastian Smythe's ID would be a fake one, but the man in the photo was most definitely not him. And he was under the impression that he was using the alias "Tobias Larson", not "Thomas Maclean".

He turned back to the body. With the tip of his pistol's silencer, he pushed the green mask over the young man's head to expose his face.

Anger flooded through him, a peculiar mixture of heated rage and icy annoyance.

The man that lay dead before him was NOT Sebastian Smythe.

"Olivia!" he called, deadly quiet. "Javier!"

His two henchmen emerged cautiously from their hiding places behind the curtains. "Yes, Boss?"

"This is the wrong man." He sounded so calm, the effect was ten times as scary than if he were to yell. "You pointed me to the wrong target."

"B-but, we don't understand, Boss. He introduced himself to us as Toby Larson. He matched the description. Everything seemed in order."

"Well, he isn't. And you have failed me."

"Look for him yourself, then next time!" Javier argued. "Don't blame us when this is a job you should have done yourself to begin with! Need I remind you that we've been the ones doing all your dirty work because you haven't had the balls to do it yourself and-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Olivia hissed, elbowing her work partner hard in the ribs. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

Gareth Marsen watched the exchange, his expression impassive.

"Whatever. I quit." With that, Javier turned on his heel and walked away, his partner staring in rage and disbelief, her hands twisted nervously into her olive gown.

Marsen raised his pistol, aiming at the retreating figure. He squeezed the trigger. Javier collapsed.

"I take it you will not make Javier's unfortunate mistake, my dear Olivia." Police sirens wailed in the background and Gareth slid the gun into his jacket. "I believe we still have a Target on the loose, and an incomplete assignment to resolve."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ _And the chase is back on!_

_I didn't really like how this chapter turned out, to be honest. It was rushed, but the school term resumes tomorrow and I kinda wanted some closure for this part of the story before I run out of time to update again. I kinda confused myself writing this, but just to clear things up..._

_SEBASTIAN IS ALIVE. QUINN IS ALIVE. (Poor editing on my part... I was hoping that my lovely readers would assume that it was either Sebastian or Thomas who was killed by Marsen, but on hindsight, I realised I set it up poorly and people ended up thinking it was Quinn that got shot instead. Oh well.)_

__Remember how Tom Maclean was running around introducing himself as Toby Larson? Well, I guess this was a REALLY terrible night to be doing such a thing. As it turns out, that seemingly harmless couple he introduced himself to under his nemesis' name turned out to be the henchmen of a professional assassin, and it just so happened that that name was the the name of the Target of said murderer. Just rotten luck, really, because next thing he knows, poor little Tommy finds himself dead.__

_Moral of the story? Guys, just don't try to be someone you're not ;)_

_Reviews, please? They give me warm fuzzies(: Thank you SO MUCH for reading... you have no idea how much it means to me._


	21. Chapter 19

**Thick as Thieves**

_Chapter Nineteen – The Great Escape, Part One_

* * *

><p>"Okay, what's the plan?"<p>

"What's _what_ plan, Einstein? We don't have a freaking plan!"

"For Christ's sake, you had one job. ONE."

"Yeah well, you were the one who ran off without waiting for my answer!"

"Oh for the sake of all things good and holy – Shut the _fuck_ up, you two!" A voice blared through their earpieces, causing the two bickering allies to wince.

"Ouch, that hurt." Jeff whined, momentarily pulling out the small device to rub his ear resentfully. Nick nodded, but left his earpiece in his ear.

"God, grow a pair already." They could almost hear the programmer rolling his eyes. "While you two bantered about plans as functional as a sinking rubber duck, I took the time and liberty to dig up the blueprint of the mansion."

The blonde and brunette blushed in shame as the voice literally in their heads continued.

"Okay, so listen up: getting into the house should be simple enough – based on the files I have looked through of you guys' past, you should be familiar enough with breaking and entering. Once you're inside, walk past the kitchen and into the first lounge. There should be a total of four doors in the six walls of the lounge; the stereo and television system is wired into the far wall. Stand in front of the television and face the couches. Focus on the door at approximately two o'clock. Once you're there, give me a shout out. There are two people in the kitchen – as far as I know unarmed. Take them out and let me know once you're by the specific door. Good luck."

"Geez, Artie, you sound a lot like some video game that's giving us our briefing instructions on how to clear the level." Jeff mused.

Nick glared at him. "Dude, this is serious. This is real life shit. My sister – _your '_sister' - is in there with some psychopaths so quit with the joking and let's go save her."

That shut the blonde up.

* * *

><p>Benji waited, jittery, as Quinn lowered herself into the waiting car. He was still in shock, the aftermath of what had just gone on not quite processed in his mind. Quinn had half climbed into the car when she straightened up, cocking her head delicately to the side with her perfect, arched eyebrows furrowed.<p>

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Nothing, I just thought I heard- Oh my God! Benji! Is that…?"

"Oi! Wait up!" The blissfully familiar voice yelled from the distance. "Quinn! Benji!"

"No fucking way. Q, get in the car, quick!" The British teenager hurriedly and rather unceremoniously shoved the actress into the passenger seat just as Sebastian and Santana pulled up to the black car.

"What the-"

"Get in get in get in!" Sebastian shouted, all but throwing Santana into Quinn's lap before grabbing hold of the lapels of Benji's Jacket and pulling him into the car along with him. He slammed the door shut.

"Just drive!" Benji exclaimed and the alarmed-looking driver immediately obliged.

The spacious passenger seat of the Chrysler was a tangle of limbs and fabric as the four straightened themselves up. For a long moment, there was silence. Then the two women were hugging and the two guys began talking at the same time.

"I thought you were dead you asshole!"

"Thank GOD you guys hadn't left yet!"

"What the fuck happened in there?"

"Did you see the guy?"

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!"

Silence.

Quinn took a deep breath and spoke calmly. "Okay. First things first – is everybody alright? Santana? Sebastian?"

They nodded.

"Good. I'm just going to go ahead and assume that what just happened was not just some other random school shooting." She looked pointedly at Sebastian, who grimaced under her gaze. "Yet here you are. So it's safe to say that whoever I saw shot down on the floor was just at the wrong place at the wrong time?"

Benji's face paled as realization dawned. "Oh god. Oh man. Tom. It must have been." He stuttered. "He was pretending to be you tonight, Sebastian. That murderer must have thought – Oh god."

They settled into an uncomfortable, guilt-ridden silence. Then, Sebastian's broken voice cut through the quiet. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't – I should never have come here. I – nobody should have to die for this, for me and now even Blaine and the others have been kidnapped and I just - I can't… This is all my fault. I should have turned myself in when I had the chance-"

He was cut off when Santana slapped him squarely in his face.

"Ow! Christ!" he yelled, clutching at his bright red cheek. "Tana!"

"Get over your self-pity, Smythe. This wasn't your fault. Marsen is a fucking psychopath." She rolled her eyes, the soft side she had shown for those few hours replaced with her usual snarky self. "Sure it's sad that this Tom guy, bless him, got hurt but for now it's more important that we focus on what's ahead."

Quinn, who had been sitting silently in the corner, spoke, her voice barely a whisper. "Wait – what happened to Blaine? I haven't heard from him in days…" She looked at her friends, alarm growing in her eyes whilst panic began to creep into her raising voice. "Sebastian? What's happened to Blaine?!"

Unable to meet her gaze, Santana finally filled her best friend in.

Quinn's painful, heart-wrenching sobs filled the space and tore right into Sebastian's chest. The weeks began to catch up on him, the faces of those loved and lost and in danger… because of _him_.

Sebastian glanced over at the people in the dim light of the car – Benji, the good, pure soul whom he had forged such a close bond with in such a short time frame; Quinn, the love of his best friend's life – the best friend whose safety was currently compromised because of his own misdeeds; and Santana. Santana, who meant more to him than anything in his universe. Santana, who had been drawn into his life by nothing more than the lure of wealth and the aroma of prospective success, but turned out to be the best thing that he'd never in a million years think he would have ever needed. She had woven herself permanently, but by no means seamlessly, into the tangle of his existence; intertwined, severed and mended countless times to become part of the complex web that his reality consisted of.

These people, these names, these faces – of Quinn and Blaine and Benji and Santana – were the ones, he realized, he truly cared for. It may seem like an ironic bit of almost poetic justice that he should learn to put the well being of others before his own in the midst of a war, but Sebastian had never had anyone to love and care for to such a degree previously.

For the first time in his life, Sebastian Smythe found himself willing to trade his own life in exchange for the safety of others; for the happiness of his friends.

* * *

><p>"Artie, Artie!" Nick hissed into his mouthpiece. There was a muffled groan followed by a loud thump in the adjacent room. "We're where you instructed. Now what?"<p>

"Cool. Is Jeff with you?"

"He's just around the corne-"

"Yeah, I'm here with Nicky." A third voice joined the conversation, slightly breathless from his tussle with the guards.

"Great. Okay guys, I need you to listen to what I'm about to say very carefully.

"On the wall next to it is a touch screen. This is high tech shit. The pad is a lock, which opens only to a specific code of four alphabets and five numbers. This code must be keyed in within nine-point-five seconds in total and no more than one-point-six-five between individual digits. Otherwise, the code will reshuffle and be inaccessible for the next twenty seconds."

"Fucking hell…" Jeff exhaled.

"That's not all," Artie's voice continued "the code also changes either every three, five, or seven minutes."

"Well. That's good to know."

"Just give me a sec here. I've got records of the past two hundred codes. I just need to feed it through the random coding algorithm and narrow down the options. Hey Jeff – I need you to keep watch. There must be absolutely no disturbances whatsoever for this next task. Keep me posted on any changes, got it?"

"Copy that."

"Good. Say, Nick?"

"What's up?"

"I want you to look at the screen device. If I'm not wrong, there should be an orange light blinking in the corner, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Excellent. Keep watching. There should be a three individual flashes of green before a red blink. The red indicates the rearrangement of the code, and the green the minute leading up to that switch in twenty second intervals. I cannot emphasise the importance of you telling me exactly when the lights go off. It's my only chance of capturing the code, which gives you minutes to learn it and key it in without any form of hesitation whatsoever. Copy?"

"I – Copy." Nick gulped.

"It's fine, Buddy. I believe in you. Now get ready – keep your eyes in the light at all times."

Nick stared intently at that little blinking orange light, his eyes nearly watering up from his lack of blinking. His mind was racing a mile a minute, trying his hardest not to fail and fearing the consequences of such an outcome.

He waited. There was a shuffle of feet in the background but he fought against his first instinct to turn in defense. He would just have to trust Jeff to watch his back, and he did with all his heart.

A red flash. He counted silently in his head the number of seconds to the first green blink.

_One hundred eighteen… One hundred nineteen…_

"Green one." The sounds of computer keys rapidly being entered hovered through his earpiece.

Twenty seconds to the next.

_Seventeen… Eighteen… Nineteen…_

"Green two"

_Eighteen… Ninete-…_

A loud crash broke his concentration as the brunette found himself instinctually jumping out of his crouched position. His eyes wide, he scanned the room to find his blonde accomplice and best friend cowering slightly in the doorframe, a broken vase at his feet and a sheepish expression on his guilty face.

"My bad." He whispered. "Sorry, Artie."

"Goddamn it, Jeff!" Artie yelled and Nick hissed simultaneously. "We nearly had it!" Artie screamed.

"Let's try again, Nicky. We were close that time. Jeff, you are now forbidden from entering this room until you receive my instruction to do so." The programmer ordered with an annoyed huff.

Six attempts later, they had yet to succeed. In one of them, Nick had counted the three hundred and sixty seconds leading up to the green flash, only to lose his count and end up relaying the second green light a split second too late. In another, he sneezed and missed the red flash, so had to wait for the code to reset itself yet again. It was frustrating and tedious and arduous; this was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_

_Lots of dialogue, and I know it's a short(ish) update, but..._

_It's baaaaack! (: Sorry for such a long hiatus on this story! I took a break on this to work on some other AU Sebtana and Seblaine fics. I'm so sorry I failed to mention this in my last update but to be perfectly honest, I hadn't expected to, either. It just kinda... happened? But fret not - I have not abandoned, nor do I intend to abandon, this story just yet! Anyway, you can expect more updates now that I'm all done with exams and school and can focus more on my writing._

_That being said, however, I am still juggling between multiple WIP fics and a (regardless of how dysfunctional) social life. So I'll update whenever possible. I promise._

_Finally, I need to express my gratitude. It's thanks to you wonderful, beautiful readers and reviewers that inspire me to keep going with this (: I can't thank all of you enough for staying around. Special mentions to the awesome frequent reviewers... you know who you are. And well, everyone who has reviewed or enjoyed or read this deserves cookies. _

_You're all awesome._

_-J_


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